


Scott Cooks Up a Storm

by TheRimmerConnection



Category: Thunderbirds, Thunderbirds tv
Genre: Adventure, First Time, Improper use of Thunderbird vehicles, Jeff trying very hard to understand, M/M, Proper action scenes, Scott being too Scott-ish for his own good, Space rescue, Surprise infatuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-09
Updated: 2006-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRimmerConnection/pseuds/TheRimmerConnection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott has a duty to perform, and nothing will stand in his way. So what happens when a surprisingly friendly Ned Cook gets in under his guard?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rescue on Autopilot

**Author's Note:**

> No, none of them except Evgeny and the porridge are mine, I'm not making any money from them. I'm just pulling their strings (...ouch!).

Scott Tracy held tightly to the twin control bars of Thunderbird One as he turned her towards home. A rescue from a ship going down in the mid-Atlantic had left him filthy and exhausted.  
  
"Boy, do I need a shower and a nap," he muttered to himself wearily.  
  
Thunderbird One was just crossing the coast of America when her comms bleeper went off and Scott flicked the switch to open a channel to his father at International Rescue Headquarters.  
  
"Thunderbird One to Base, loud and clear. What's up Father?" he asked.  
  
"What's Thunderbird's endurance Scott?" asked Jeff without preamble.  
  
Scott checked the dials in front of him.  
  
"She's fine Dad, fit to go round the world twice. Why?"  
  
"I'm sorry son, I know you'd probably like a rest, but we've got another emergency call coming in. I need you to head straight for North Europe. John will give you a more detailed fix to head for when he gets it. There's a man trapped under some sort of ancient building, probably injured and definitely very cold. It's in the middle of nowhere as far as we can tell and…well, he needs us."  
  
Scott rubbed his face hard,  
  
"Oh boy…" He sighed.  
  
"You alright son?" asked Jeff.  
  
"Sure Father…it's just I'm so tired, I hardly know what to do with myself now…I just don't know that I should be going out. I mean I know I have to but…" He trailed off. His father's voice came through sounding gentle and kind,  
  
"I know Son, it's tough. Virgil's going to be pretty tired too. He's heading back to base now to drop off Gordon and pick up whatever pod you think we'll need when you get there. I'll send Alan back with him, then if one of you can't make it, he can fly one of the craft home." Then Jeff's voice changed back to the command, "Take one of Brains' pep pills, change your uniform and wash yourself up, you look a mess and you can't let us down on appearance. Then get in touch with John for that fix and call in when you land. That man's depending on you Scott." At this, Scott's years of pilot training and service came flooding back and raw duty filled his head.  
  
"Yes Sir!" he said smartly, "Over and out."  
  
Pulling on the right hand control, Scott turned his craft to head back towards Europe. Then quickly setting the automatic pilot, he unstrapped himself and stripped off his salt-stained uniform. His underclothes would just have to stay damp and salty, there wasn't much room in Thunderbird One to store excess baggage and just for once, Scott felt a tinge of jealousy for Thunderbird Two where there were beds and washing facilities and space to stretch your legs. Pulling a small survival kit out of one of the cubby-holes in the cabin wall, he found a disinfecting wash-cloth and rubbed his face and neck. Then he combed his hair, pulled on fresh uniform trousers, top, sash and hat, transferred his gun and utilities to the belt, then stowed the dirty clothes behind a grab bar and strapped himself back in.  
  
Re-taking manual control, he called John in the Space Station.  
  
"Space Station to Thunderbird One, loud and clear. This is some day you're having, eh Scott?"  
  
"Well, I can't say I haven't had better. What's the location then John?"  
  
"International fix system 265, 87. Local reference 2 zeta."  
  
"Thanks. Have we got any details?"  
  
"It's sketchy Scott. The guy who called in was the only other person at the scene, some sort of expedition to check out these ruins. He was a bit panicky, so I couldn't get much out of him, but it seems there was some sort of earth tremor and part of the floor collapsed. Anyhow, he says he can see him and he's alive and talking, but he's too far down to reach and this guy's too shaken up anyway. I think he nearly went down too."  
  
"Ok, thanks John. I guess I'll see for myself when I get there. Over and out." Scott called off, popped a pep pill, and opened channels back to base.  
  
"Father, I've got the location from John. It sounds like a deep rescue job with dangers of further tremors. I suggest The Mole, just in case, but lines and props are probably our best hope. ETA at danger zone now thirty-five minutes."  
  
"FAB Scott. Virgil's ETA here is about twenty minutes now, so given that we've got to get her back inside to change pod, refuel and board Alan, I don't think Thunderbird Two will be leaving before you get there. Unless we're really quick, we'll wait for you to confirm what you need, so call in when you arrive."  
  
"FAB," said Scott and closed comms.  
  
Virgil listened to his Father going over what Scott had said and whistled through his teeth.  
  
"Gee Father, I'm sure glad I'm in Thunderbird Two. At least I'll get ten minutes to wash up a bit. Scott was looking pretty dreadful when I left him, if he's anything like me he's still got his boots full of water. He's gonna be out cold for a day after this."  
  
"Well Son, he'll do his duty for International Rescue first…but maybe I'll get Grandma to pack you up some of her cookies and some hot towels. I think you'll both be needing them after the rescue. Alan is ready to swap over with Gordon, I want you in and out of base as quickly as possible."  
  
"FAB," said Virgil, "Coming in to land now, Father."  
  
Thunderbird Two turned on the spot and touched down smoothly on the runway as the double row of palm trees tilted out of the way. Virgil backed her into the hangar in the cliff-face which rose up quickly behind to hide the giant craft. From the control room, Tin-Tin operated the refuelling machinery, coupling the fuel intake to the giant hoses running back to the giant tanks of rocket fuel stored deep in the island. Meanwhile, Virgil raced back up to the house. Yes, there were facilities on board Thunderbird Two, but you couldn't beat a shower in your own room, in a proper bathroom.  
  
Five minutes later, washed and dressed in civvies, Virgil hurried into the lounge.  
  
"Any news Father?" he asked, towelling his hair briskly.  
  
"Scott has just landed. He says to take The Mole as expected, but he hasn't had the chance to find out any more yet. Tin-Tin has just finished refuelling and Alan's on his way down in the passenger chute with some extra supplies from Grandma…" Jeff chuckled as he said this, remembering Grandma's worry that there wouldn't be enough to sustain her three hungry grandsons when they finished the job, "…so get moving, we don't want to keep that man waiting any longer than we have to."  
  
"FAB," said Virgil, dropped his towel on the sofa, hauled his boots back on and dashed to the disguised panel in the wall. It flipped over, tipping him backwards into the pilot's chute. He braced himself and winced as his head hid the end of the trolley that would carry him down, it was padded, a bit, but he didn't like to mention to Brains or his Father just how much of a jolt he got from it each time. It would have helped if he didn't have a tiredness headache coming on… but his mind was already clicking into gear for the task ahead, and as the pilot's seat folded back into place and the steering column rose to meet him, all he thought about was the pre-flight checks.  
  
Alan was already in his uniform and seated in one of the passenger chairs behind him.  
  
"Alright Kiddo?" Virgil called jocularly, throwing a glance back at his youngest brother that was cheekier than he felt right now. Alan smiled.  
  
"Sure Virg. What about you? You look awful."  
  
"Thanks! I'm alright for now. Prepare for take-off."  
  
Thunderbird Two rolled out of the hangar and forwards onto the launch ramp. The blast shield was raised and the jets fired, propelling the huge ship into the sky.  
  
"Launch a-okay. Now plotting a course to International fix system 265, 87. What's in that basket from Grandma Alan?"  
  
"You can't have any now, I promised not to let you. Besides, Scott would flip if he thought you'd got to Grandma's cookies before him." Alan laughed. "So, how was the rescue? It sounded pretty harsh from what Gordon said."  
  
"It was…well, kinda wet! The ship was breaking up in a storm that was still raging when we got there. You remember how faint John said the signal was? Well that's why. It was a MONSTER of a storm. The passengers and crew were all up in the main room on the top deck, but they didn't dare come out because of the waves crashing over. How they stayed afloat till we got there I'll never know. Scott managed to land at the stern, which held the worst of the damage at the prow out of the water, but he sure was worried about her going down with his Thunderbird still on deck. I lowered Gordon down and he managed to attach a line to hold her up while we transferred the passengers onto the rescue cage and into Thunderbird Two."  
  
"So how come you got so wet if you were piloting?"  
  
"I had to put her on autopilot in the end and work the winch by remote control. It was too hairy down there. Scott must be way more tired than me, we couldn't throw grab-lines each time from the cage to the ship because there just wasn't time, so Scott was hanging onto the ship with one hand and the cage with the other; it was so stormy, it was just flying around like paper in the wind otherwise. I thought he was going to be ripped in two at one point. Boy, are his arms going to ache tomorrow. Gordon and I had to take each passenger across personally. They were too scared to move otherwise."  
  
"You saved them all though?"  
  
"Yeah. Just. We nearly lost one, a girl. She was a little bit more independent and she let go of Gordon just as she was getting to the cage, lost her footing and went over. Gordon dived in, no safety line, no hesitation. Pulled her back on board. She wouldn't let go of him for a while. We haven't told Dad about that yet. Gordo deserves one of Grandma's special cakes for that! Ship went down the moment we released the line. Took the passengers and crew back to land, popped them all into the nearest hospital and cleared off. They'll be alright, they didn't even get as wet as us in the end, they're just a bit shaken."  
  
At that moment the comms bleeper went off and Virgil flicked the switch to see his older brother standing by his mobile control in what looked to be a highly windswept and lonely area. A tent behind him was the only structure visible, except for the unstable-looking heap of stones and plaster, which had to be the ruin John had mentioned.  
  
"Thunderbird Two to Mobile Control, loud and clear, how's it looking Scott?"  
  
"It's a bit shaky Virg, Don't come in too close when you land, the whole place is unstable, seems like there's been a bit of erosion undermining the ground round here, but I don't know how. Still, that's not the main part. You'll never guess who the fella is, trapped down this hole?"  
  
"I give in Scott."  
  
"Ned Cook!"  
  
"Ned Cook? You mean the television guy, the one we rescued from under the Empire State? The one who tried to film you?"  
  
"Yup, the same. Still, he did thank us very nicely Virg, we really can't complain."  
  
"No, I wasn't, I wasn't. Just wondered how one man can get into so many scrapes."  
  
"It's easy when you haven't got sense enough to leave a place when you're in mortal danger. He's just too keen for a story. Nothing else matters to him, so he puts himself at risk. But that's no reason not to do our best for him. Look Virg, it's mighty cold out here, I've sent the other guy into his tent to calm down, then he's going to head back to their original base in the Jeep. I'm sure he'll be alright and he's a bit of a liability here. I've pinned a tracker on him just in case. But I'm going down to Ned now on a line. There's a second hole about fifty yards from where he fell and it looks a bit more stable. They reckon it's all connected up under there, so if I can reach him that way, I can get an insulating blanket round him before he freezes and check out his medical condition."  
  
"Okay, but you be careful Scott, double check everything before you go, you don't want to make mistakes because you're tired."  
  
"Sure thing Virg. I'll keep in touch. Over and out."  
  
Scott called off and fished around in the supply modules for the lowering lines. Moving to the other hole, he found a solid piece of ground and fired in the anchor. It seemed to hold and Scott positioned himself at the edge of the hole, ready to let go.  
  
"You'd better hold out," he muttered to the anchor, "here goes."  
  
Clutching a pouch with a small medi-kit, food, drink and the blanket, Scott gingerly lowered himself down on the line, eventually hitting solid, rocky ground, about twenty-five feet down.  
  
"Ned!" he called, "Can you hear me? This is International Rescue. Call out if you can so I can find you."  
  
"Over here, International Rescue!" returned a cry from not far off. Scott listened carefully to the echoes and followed them round a corner where he could see a faint smudge of daylight at the end of a passage. He ran down the passage and came out into a chamber full of mud and rocks and saw Ned Cook sitting up in the corner on a boulder, shivering and dirty.


	2. Danger at Cook's Fall

Scott dropped the pouch at the entrance to the chamber and went over to Ned.  
  
"Hi Ned. How are you feeling? Anything broken?"  
  
"No, I don't think so buddy. I'm a bit bruised, but I sort of slid down with the mud, so I didn't hit the bottom so hard. I got onto this rock okay, so I guess I'm alright. How's Taylor?"  
  
"He the guy you were with?" Ned nodded. "He's fine, a bit shaken, but he's going to drive back to your base in the Jeep soon…" At this, Scott and Ned heard the sound of an engine starting up and felt the rumble of tyres over the ground above.  
  
"Get down!" shouted Scott, and flung himself onto Ned, pulling him into the shelter of the boulder as the roof of the chamber at the far end collapsed, leaving huge boulders blocking the exit. They crouched in the small space, coughing in the dust, then Scott poked his head up and groaned,  
  
"The roof's fallen on my pack. Dammit! I shouldn't have left it behind there." He kicked the boulder in frustration before recovering himself. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess we're both stuck in here now aren't we?"  
  
"Well, until my buddies get here, I guess so. Oh well, I can still check you out, see that there really is nothing broken. We don't want to go hauling you around when Thunderbird Two gets here if your leg's about to fall off!" He winked at Ned and helped him back onto the boulder.  
  
Scott ran his hands up each of Ned's legs in turn. Ned shuddered slightly as Scott felt round his thigh.  
  
"Okay? Is that hurting?" Scott asked, worried.  
  
"N-no. I'm, uh, cold I guess."  
  
"I'm sorry. I should have remembered. The blanket's in the pack under that chunk of rock there. I tell you what, I'll give you my uniform top, they're made of fantastic stuff our scientist dreamed up for us, keep you warm or cool as you need them."  
  
"You'll freeze. I can't take it."  
  
"Don't be silly. I've still got the bottom half, besides, I've been working all day, I'm warm as toast."  
  
Scott took off his sash and gave it to Ned to hold, then pulled off the uniform top and swapped it for the sash.  
  
"There you go Ned, pull that on. I'm sorry if it's a bit damp, I swear it isn't sweat, it's clean on, but my undershirt was still wet from a sea-rescue earlier."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Say, what's your name? I met uh…Gordon, but I only saw you from a distance the last time…gee, I don't suppose there are many people who make this much trouble for you twice."  
  
"Not many, no. I'm Scott."  
  
"Good to meet you. Hey, this uniform is tremendous! I'd love to do a report on this stuff, you could make a fortune from it."  
  
"Never stop looking for a story do you?"  
  
"I couldn't…I guess that's why I get in trouble so much. I hope you're not mad at me."  
  
"Why should I be?"  
  
"Well, I know that really we shouldn't have stayed here. We worked out how unstable it was hours ago, had a couple of close shaves. But we didn't leave. Same as at the Empire State. I guess I should have learnt my lesson by now."  
  
"Well, maybe. But it's not my job to get mad at people, it's my job to rescue them."  
  
"Well you sure do a great job. Is it right that you're all brothers in International Rescue?"  
  
"I can't really talk about that Ned. You know that. Hold on a minute, I'm just going to call Thunderbird Two, tell them what's happened."  
  
Scott lifted his wrist and spoke to his watch.  
  
"Scott calling Thunderbird Two. Come in please…Virgil, do you read me?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Scott Tracy to Thunderbird Two, come in please." Scott listened intently for a moment, but no sound came through on the watch.  
  
"No luck?" asked Ned.  
  
"No. The signal's not getting through at some point, but I don't know whether it's me or them."  
  
"It's probably you. We were investigating this place because it's meant to have been some sort of temple where amazing things happened. You know, strange phenomena, lights, odd things happening to people's possessions, that sort of thing. We reckon there's some sort of natural force field – electromagnetic or something similar, making strange effects in this region. We think that might be what's made it so unstable too. Taylor and I were trying to capture something weird on film. We didn't see anything though."  
  
"Well, it shouldn't matter too much. I guess they'll be worried, but I told them what I was doing, so they'll know where to find me." Scott shivered, maybe just the bottom half of his uniform wasn't quite as warm as the whole thing, especially with a damp undershirt.  
  
"You're getting cold. I told you you would. Here, have your top back." Ned went to remove the top, but Scott stopped him.  
  
"'Fraid not Ned, my priority is to keep you safe and warm. I'd sure as hell get a bawling-out if you froze while I was warm."  
  
"Okay. So tell me about your brothers."  
  
"Why? I can only think of one reason why you'd want that information, and it isn't a good one."  
  
"I know what you think. You think I'm going to store up all the information and use it to make some career-topping story to put on my show. Well I'm not. I made a promise, to you and to myself. You saved my life. If I can't hold my tongue for that I really am a bad guy. Now here you are, working on saving me again. I'm not going to say a word, I give you my solemn vow."  
  
"So why do you want to know if it's not for that?"  
  
"Well, for one thing, we've got to talk about something. I get the feeling you're not all that keen on my work, so I'd rather not talk about that. What else is there? Secondly, I'm really intrigued by your family. I've met two of you, and heard a little about the others. I want to know how a whole family can get so…I don't know…closely involved all at once I suppose. I mean, do you have siblings who aren't involved?"  
  
"Look Ned, I really can't…"  
  
"Just tell me what they're like. How could that possibly compromise your security?"  
  
"I'll decide that. I guess I could tell you a little, but if I can't tell you something I won't. What do you want to know?"  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"I guess... Well, there's John. He does the monitoring mostly, picking up distress calls and keeping us all in contact."  
  
"What's he like?"  
  
"He's, um. Geez, I don't know, I'm his brother…he's pretty quiet. Likes astronomy a lot. A bit self-centred I guess. Not very social. Great guy though. I think he probably had the worst time of it when Mom died. I'm not sure about Virgil." Scott found himself relaxing, almost starting to enjoy talking about his family to an outsider, a thing he hardly ever got to do with their stringent security precautions. Ned didn't say a word regarding the revelation about his mother, but let Scott go on. "He's pretty quiet too. He's the artistic one – paints like a demon and plays really good piano. Actually, I think Dad was a bit surprised that he decided to follow a more technical career path. He could have made it as an artist I reckon."  
  
"Do you do anything like that?"  
  
"Me? Hah!" Scott laughed, "I couldn't play the piano to save my life, and you don't want to see me with a paintbrush! I can just about pick a line on a guitar, if you don't mind waiting! Give me a spray-gun and tell me to paint a ship and you've put me more in the right area. I'm a fiend with a pool cue though."  
  
"You're the oldest?"  
  
"Yeah. Then, um, then there's Gordon. Gordon's the athletic one, or was. He used to do speedboat racing, he was a champion swimmer, all that sort of thing. Had a nasty accident in a hydrofoil though – smashed it up and nearly killed himself. He's been pretty tough on that score, pulled through and got back in the water. He does all our underwater rescues. Cheeky devil sometimes, you have to keep your eye on him. Then the baby is Alan. Crazy about cars, trains, anything fast. Used to be a…no, I can't tell you that. He's really our astronaut, but he's a great help on normal rescues too. Doesn't know much fear. He can be quite naughty really, likes to play the odd practical joke, but really cannot take them in return. You should see his face when we try. He's an easy target you see, he's got a bit of a thing going on with this girl who lives with us. Dad kind of adopted her, she's a stunner, but boy can she flirt! I've told her off for it before now. You can always get at Alan by suggesting Tin-Tin's up to something. You know, you sound a lot like him."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Yeah, very similar voice." Scott shivered again. Ned looked at him,  
  
"Look, for goodness sake, come over and squeeze up to me, keep warm. I don't care if you get a tongue-lashing for it, you're not freezing in front of me." Scott looked at him, then shuffled over and sat next to Ned who put his arm round him and pulled him tight.  
  
"Hey!" said Scott, "who's helping who here?"  
  
"We're both in the same boat right now. Want to keep warm don't you? You look like you're about to keel over anyway." Scott rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, it's been a pretty rough day really. We had this rescue earlier, called out of bed for it at four this morning, after what I will admit was not an early night last night; spent a couple of hours hanging onto a boat and a cage for dear life in high seas and a gale, soaked to the skin. Then just as we were headed for home, looking forward to a hot shower and a bit of shut-eye, we got your call. I'm the rapid response so I turned straight here. Virgil at least got to go home for a minute."  
  
"Gee I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm not complaining. It's not your problem. It's just one of the more unpleasant things about a job like this. You can't say 'no thanks, not today'. But then you save someone's life and it's all worthwhile."  
  
"Are you always first out to anything?"  
  
"Pretty much always. I'm the only one who flies Thunderbird One, and she's the fastest. No, actually, Alan has flown her, but it terrifies me when he does…I'm kinda attached to her."  
  
"Have you ever flown his ship?"  
  
"Thunderbird Three? Yeah…all the time, I ferry him around in it on occasion. That's probably why he gets so mad that I won't let him in Thunderbird One much. She's the best craft you see…" Scott smiled, thinking about his sleek, silver ship. "Oh, by the way, the others wouldn't agree about that!"  
  
"Are any of you married? Paired up?"  
  
"No. I mean, Alan's got Tin-Tin, but it won't get too serious at the moment. Our jobs are too dangerous. You wouldn't want to bring someone you loved into the middle of all that. The risk is too high. It's bad enough when it's your brothers out there. It's really killing watching your little brother driving straight into an inferno, and knowing that, but for grace and a dollop of luck, he might never come out. I don't think any of us could put that burden on someone else."  
  
"You don't date at all then?"  
  
"Sure…a bit. Well, Virg does and Gordon does, and Alan when he's trying to pay back Tin-Tin. But they can't really come back to base, it's too difficult if we have a call come in, not being able to reveal who we really are and all that."  
  
"But I know who you are. What's the difference?"  
  
"You don't know where we come from. You can know one or the other, not both."  
  
"What about you then? Do you date?"  
  
"Not much. I don't see the point, it just makes you feel bad later when you can't take it anywhere. Why the interest?"  
  
"I'm just curious as to how you spend your time."  
  
"There's quite a lot to do. Everything has to be kept up to scratch. We spend a fair bit of time practising. You know, training in endurance, target practice, safety…all that." Ned wasn't really listening.  
  
"Always girls?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Is it always girls you date?"  
  
"What the heck makes you ask that?" Scott sat up straight and looked at Ned, who quailed a little under his unfaltering blue-eyed gaze.  
  
"I-I just…well, I get this sort of feeling…forget it. Forget I said anything." He stopped and looked away. Then his shoulders seemed to stiffen and he turned back quickly.  
  
"No. Don't forget it actually. I'm Ned Cook: Fearless reporter. Who isn't going to ignore a chance, even if he can't report it to a soul." He leaned in suddenly, wrapping his other arm round Scott, and kissed him hard on the lips. Then he pulled back just enough to look into Scott's eyes again, with a look that clearly said, 'Well now Buster, what are you going to do?'  
  
Scott stared back, knocked completely off kilter. Hell, it was a long time since he'd been kissed by anyone, let alone a relative stranger who just happened to be a famous television reporter…and the subject of rescue missions. His tired brain ground into action and tried to work through his options. Yes, he had been kissed by a man before…and yes, if he admitted it to himself, he had probably enjoyed it more than any of the kisses he'd ever got from girls. And yes, if he admitted it to Virgil who had happened to spot the man kissing him when they were meant to be well hidden in the car outside a restaurant, he had gone a little further with the man than he had ever expected himself to…but this was…well, different. He was pretty sure that his father wouldn't approve of fraternisation with a rescuee. Particularly not one of the same sex. On the other hand, it was very warm and cosy, wrapped in Ned's arms…the kiss had been pretty chaste, but there was a look in Ned's eyes that promised more…he wasn't bad looking and he sounded like his baby brother…  
  
No. What was he thinking? His father would kill him if he found out. Scott had never really liked Ned, there was something about his ruthlessness and drive for a story that just didn't sit easily with him, Scott was always so straightforward and open. No. He was tired. He'd regret anything he did now. Virgil would be here in a moment, with Alan…with Alan…Ned sounded a lot like Alan. But he didn't fancy his brother. No. But it was nice to hear something so familiar when he was sooo…tired.  
  
"I'm on duty." He said, in as non-committal and casual a way as he could manage.  
  
"Hardly. You're stuck underground in half your uniform waiting for someone who won't be here for a while to come and dig you out. I call that off-duty." Ned reached his arm further round Scott who had started to pull away, and dragged him back close, rubbing his hands on his back to warm him up.  
  
"What's the point Ned? I don't even…that is I've never liked you all that much. I don't like the way you go about things. You're a bit too ruthless and…idiotic for me. I'm not really into one-night stands. I've done it before and it leaves me cold. You're being quite, um, sensible in a way today, so I've probably warmed to you a bit, but why do anything? In, say, twenty minutes, Virgil and Alan turn up in Thunderbird Two, come and rescue us, you say 'Gee thanks, International Rescue', I say 'So long Ned, try not to get into any more scrapes!' and I fly off into the sunset. Bang goes anything more. I'm not doing it."  
  
Ned looked at him…fondly was it?  
  
"You get better," he said, wonderingly. "You know, I don't blame you for not thinking too much of me. I guess I wouldn't if I were in your line of business. I'm a liability, I know. But I've admired you since the first time I saw you in action. I was dead set on getting those pictures of your machines, not for the glory of having the exclusive story, so much as wanting to be the one who showed everyone how fantastic you were. And boy, when you chased after me and like a fool I kept driving and filming, all I could think of afterwards was how you'd handled me. You didn't get really mad, you didn't shoot me down, you even apologised when it was over. If that didn't deserve a bit of admiration, I don't know what does. I fell for you that day. Hell, when we were trapped and the water was rising, I was scared for Joe, but I didn't give a damn about myself, because if you couldn't reach us in time, I'd die hearing your voice coming over the headset. That was enough. I'm not going to let this opportunity pass. If we could work something out? I don't know. I go all over the place for my work anyway. I've usually got a cameraman, but sometimes I go on my own, when I'm doing something a bit more secretive. I could meet you anywhere in the world, anywhere. Surely you get time off?"  
  
"Not much."  
  
"Not from such hard work?"  
  
"Well Ned, it's not a case of a rescue a day and weekends off you know. When one of us is on leave, it puts a lot of pressure on the others if a call comes in. We get a lot of free time to relax in, but we're on call still. I only get about three weekends and two full weeks off a year."  
  
"That would do to start with."  
  
"Yes, but it couldn't get us anywhere. In the unlikely event that I fell in love with you, I still couldn't take you home. Besides, I'm not sure about dad's views on same-sex relationships. Hell, I not sure about my views really."  
  
"Well the idea doesn't freak you out, that's a start."  
  
"Sure. But it still leaves you and me meeting twice a year and not getting anywhere."  
  
"What happens when your dad retires?"  
  
"I probably take over…or one of the others if something happens to me."  
  
"What about when you retire?"  
  
"One of the others, or one of our children…"  
  
"Which children are those?"  
  
"Well, I suppose Tin-Tin and Alan will get round to it one day…that is if the radiation dose she received on Fireflash didn't make her sterile." He muttered the last part under his breath.  
  
"What if they don't then? What about the rest of you? Some of your brothers must want kids."  
  
"I guess when they get older they'll find nice young wives and get on with it."  
  
"And how do they do that if they're not allowed to bring a wife back to base?"  
  
"I don't know Ned. I guess dad would vet them and decide if they'd be loyal enough to risk it. I know what you're heading towards, but it won't work. I'd have to ask dad and he'd never let you. He's seen you on the telecasts and he's organised rescues around you."  
  
"Alright. Let's cross that one later. I can't let a minor point like that get in the way. I'll do anything that doesn't offend you to get closer to you. Please Scott."  
  
Scott looked down, running over what Ned had said. He was right in a way. It could be a hellishly long time before Scott ever got close to anyone if he played by his current set of rules. And it was good to be held…  
  
"Okay Ned. But go slow. I'm still not sure about you." Ned grinned and moved in ever so slowly for a kiss. Scott stopped him just before their lips touched,  
  
"And not a peep of any of this to my brothers when they arrive?"  
  
"Not a word, not a hint," said Ned.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Scott was slipping into sleep. His arm wrapped itself around Ned's shoulder.  
  
"FAB." He muttered, and was asleep.


	3. Rescuing the Rescuer

"I just don't understand it Alan," said Virgil, concernedly. "There's no reply at all. Scott should have called in by now. I hope he's alright."  
  
"Probably just too busy," replied Alan, though he know this wasn't the case. Scott would never be too busy to call in at least once to explain.  
  
"ETA now two minutes. I'll try again just before we land; he said not to land too close."  
  
"Scott? Scott wake up." Ned poked at Scott, but he didn't wake. Usually he could exist on practically no sleep, but today had been just too tiring. Ned was just settling back into the crook of Scott's arm when a soft bleep came from Scott's wrist. It was barely a murmur compared to Ned's wake-up call, but Scott's brain was well trained, and in a second he was wide awake, and answering the call on his watch.  
  
"Virgil! Am I glad to see you!" Ned looked at him uncertainly, thinking this was a rebuff. Scott waved his hand: 'ignore me'.  
  
"What's been going on Scott? I've been trying to reach you for ages."  
  
"Sorry Virgil, it's this place, it has some sort of energy field around it. I guess now you're close, you must be under the same influence and it must cancel out the interference or something."  
  
"Oh, right. So what's happening down there?" Scott closed his eyes to avoid the wink from Ned,  
  
"I'm afraid I'm stuck too Virg. I got down here alright, but when the other guy drove off in the Jeep, it disturbed the ground and the roof's fallen and blocked the exit. I don't know about using the mole now, the vibrations would probably bring the lot down."  
  
"Okay. I'll bring Thunderbird Two in about five hundred yards away. Then Alan and I will hotfoot it over and take a look. We'll just have to think on our feet, that's all. I'll call you when we've landed. Over and out."  
  
The watch flicked back to its normal dial and Scott looked up, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Well, that's it Ned. We've got company. Given the complications of my situation, how are we going to stay in touch?"  
  
Scott's watch went off again.  
  
"Go ahead Virg."  
  
"We've landed Scott, but there're holes everywhere, the ground is just giving way all over the place. Can you send out a signal stream so that I can get a fix on you?"  
  
"FAB." Scott pressed a button on the side of his watch and held it till Virgil's voice came through again.  
  
"Gotcha! You're not too far away. Hang on. Can you see out of there?"  
  
"Yeah. There's a hole just to our left, I'll come over." Scott got up, cursing his aching muscles, and scrambled over to the rubble-strewn ground directly underneath the hole where Ned had made his descent. Looking up, he saw Virgil's face appear over the edge and grin down at him.  
  
"Looking your best again, I see! Alan's holding me on a line, I don't fancy joining you down there. How's Ned?"  
  
"He's fine. Nothing broken, he was just stuck. He's got my top on to try to keep him warm. What are you thinking of doing?"  
  
"Well, I think you're right about The Mole. It's way too risky. I'd say just drag you up on a line, only I think any friction on the edge could bring the roof down. Can't hover over the hole, the blast would wreck it…"  
  
"Have you got any of those bridge girders in the pod? Brains was going to put them in when he finished tests on them."  
  
"I don't know. I didn't have time to get a pod inventory when I was home."  
  
"I think they might be. If you could batten a few together and lay them out over this hole, it might spread the load enough to run a pulley line over to get us up."  
  
"Okay Scott, I'll go and take a look." Virgil disappeared again and Scott went back to Ned. He wasn't sure, even now, that he wanted to go further with Ned. He couldn't trust his own judgement, being so tired. But he couldn't just leave the man. The duty thing was pressing on him again. He owed Ned something for that little revelation, whether he liked it or not. And he was finding that actually, he did like it.  
  
"So, how are we going to keep in touch?" he asked again.  
  
"I know you're not going to want me to be able to call you. Too much information. I'll give you my office's number. They'll always be able to put you in touch with me. Say it's Scott with some information. I'll tell them you're scouting for me. You will call, won't you?"  
  
"Yeah fella," Scott said softly, "Sure I'll call." Ned kissed him on the corner of his mouth, then let him go.  
  
"Not sure, are you," said Ned. "We could just have a meal, see a film or something. I'm not going to pounce on you. I can turn off my reporter mode you know…well, almost."  
  
"Don't worry. It's just me. I'll call, I promise, and we'll work out the details then, but it may not be for a while, it depends on work and when I can get leave."  
  
"I understand, but don't leave it too long, hey buddy?" Ned pulled his reporter's notebook out of his pocket and scribbled his contact details on a sheet, which he then tore off and handed to Scott. Scott slipped the note into his trouser pocket as his watch went off again.  
  
"Scott? I've found the girders. There are two that are long enough. Alan and I are going to load an end onto each of the hover-bikes and lift them in that way. It's just too risky carrying them over-ground."  
  
"Be careful Virgil," said Scott, and the watch flicked off. Scott and Ned listened to distant sounds of clanging metal and of the bikes being started up. In a few minutes the noises came closer and shadows flickered over the walls of the chamber as the girders passed over the hole in the ceiling. Virgil was soon back on the watch,  
  
"If there's any cover in there, I'd get into it Scott. Keep this channel open and keep down. I'm not sure if the roof will hold when we put this down. I think we'll only use the one."  
  
"Okay Virg." Scott and Ned clambered back to the space behind the boulder and squeezed in. Ned put his arms round Scott's waist and held him close as Scott replied, "Right, we're as far out of the way as we can get, go ahead."  
  
"FAB." Virgil's face disappeared from the screen and Scott got a view of the side of the bike, the edge of the girder, the ground, the side of the bike, Alan in the distance, the edge of the girder, the ground…  
  
"Lowering girder now," said Virgil, and the view zoomed in on the ground as dust and stones descended from the roof and the soft thud of metal easing onto dirt echoed round the chamber. Then Virgil's face reappeared.  
  
"Well, that seems to be okay. Anything odd going on in there?"  
  
"No, it looks fine."  
  
"Right, Alan's got the line, we're going to throw it through the girder in the middle and haul you up from back a way. It'll mean a bit of a scramble at the top, but it'll keep us all away from the sides. Is Ned up to it?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll send him up first. Throw the line down, then we'll get out of this shelter." Virgil threw the line down through the centre struts of the girder and Scott and Ned climbed out into the centre of the chamber.  
  
"I'm going to tie you on the line. When you get to the top, grab onto the girder and Virgil and Alan will give you some slack so you can climb up on to it. Keep the line on and crawl right to the end of the girder on the side where they are and wait for Virgil to come and untie you." Scott hitched the line round Ned, tied it and looped it round a few more times, creating a harness. Then he spoke to Virgil again.  
  
"Okay Virg, haul away, I'll tell you if he swings too much." The line jerked slightly and Ned left the floor, travelling up smoothly to the top. There was a delay as he struggled to heave himself up onto the girder, then he had gone, crawling away towards Virgil and Alan. Scott waited. He felt odd. He was back in 'on duty' mode, his brain working quickly, looking for danger and solutions, ignoring everything but the matter in hand. But there was a part of him that did not like Ned going out of sight like that, this wasn't something he'd had to cope with before. 'Not worth falling in love, not worth falling in love.' He repeated over and over as the line slipped back down into the chamber.  
  
Scott looped the line round his foot in a half hitch, grabbed hold and called to his brothers to pull him up. Despite his tiredness, he pulled himself easily up onto the girder and crawled off it, looping the line into a coil as a he went. Stepping off the end he smiled at his brothers.  
  
"Nice work Virg. Good one Alan. Where's Ned?"  
  
"Gone for a pee." Said Alan, pointing to the pod, from behind which watery noises could be heard. "You look frozen."  
  
"I am a bit cold. Gave Ned my top, we kept warm most of the time, but it was cold waiting just now."  
  
"Have you had a chat with him?"  
  
"What about?"  
  
"About getting into dangerous situations so much."  
  
"Yes, we discussed it a bit. He knows. He's not stupid, just careless." Scott yawned and swayed a little, tiredness starting to kick back in now that the danger was over. Alan looked at Virgil,  
  
"We'd better get packed up and go home. I'm piloting Thunderbird One. Scott, you go and get into bed in Thunderbird Two." Scott went pale and opened his eyes wide,  
  
"Oh no. I wouldn't sleep a wink. I'll pilot her. You can come with me if you like."  
  
"No, you can come with me. Dad said to take over if one of you couldn't make it back, and you are not in a fit state to fly." Said Alan, ignoring Scott's attempts to protest. "Besides, I'm not passing up an opportunity like this," he muttered under his breath as Ned walked back towards them.  
  
"Alright. If you must. No fancy flying though." Said Scott. "I need a quick word with Ned before we go – I guess you'll be taking him with you Virgil?"  
  
"Yes. I said I'd drop him back at their home base, on the understanding that they don't try to come back out here. We'll leave the girder. It's not worth the risk. You have that chat while I load up the pod, then show him into the passenger lift." Virgil went over to the pod and walked inside. In a moment the huge ramp rose up, becoming a door in the end of the pod, then Thunderbird Two descended slowly over the pod until a sharp click declared that it was locked in place.  
  
"Alan, you go and get Thunderbird One ready for take-off, I won't be long." Alan wandered off, looking dreamily at the machine HE was going to pilot, and Scott took Ned's elbow and walked him away a little.  
  
"Look after yourself. I do want to see you again, but not on a rescue. I mean it. It may be a little while, don't give up, I've got to be careful."  
  
"I know. I'd like to kiss you, but I guess that would be a bad idea with your brothers around?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Oh, do you want your top back?"  
  
"Leave it in Thunderbird Two. Oh…could you tell Virgil to bring it out to me because I've left something sewn into it and I don't want it to go for washing with it in, which it will if you don't say…" Scott stopped. "I have never been a rambler before. That's your fault." Ned smirked and they walked over to Thunderbird Two. Scott showed Ned into the lift that went up through the hatch in the underside of the nose, looked around, thought for a second, half whispered "sound only" and kissed Ned quickly on the lips.  
  
"Okay Virg, take her up," he said, loudly, and waved as Ned was lifted into the big green machine.  
  
Scott walked wearily back over to his own Thunderbird and climbed up the ladder into the cockpit. Alan had brought out the extra seat down beside him, and was sat in the pilot's seat, looking pleased as punch. The hatch slid shut as the ram jets on Thunderbird Two blasted into the ground, pushing her into the sky. Scott strapped himself in.  
  
"Done pre-flight checks?" he asked.  
  
"Yes Sir!" said Alan, "Ready for take-off?"  
  
"Yes. Easy does it Alan. Get your hand off that horizontal flight controller till we're airborne. I don't want the paintwork on my fins all scratched. Gentle on that…"  
  
"SCOTT!" cried Alan, looking rather irritable, "I can fly this thing you know."  
  
"Sorry.  
  
"Just mind the…" Scott was silenced by a look from his brother, and relaxed a little as they reached high cruising level.


	4. Keeping a Tracy Fed

Thunderbird One's change to vertical flight woke Scott, and by the time he was fully alert, she was back in her silo. He and Alan both got onto the retractable walkway and it carried them back to the villa, where they squeezed through the revolving picture panel together.  
  
"Nice flying kid," said Scott. "Sorry for the hassle, I guess I just worry about her."  
  
"That's alright Scott. You're overtired, that's all."  
  
"Welcome back boys." Jeff's gravelley voice greeted them from behind his desk. "That was good work."  
  
"No Father. I left my kit where it got buried under a roof-fall, I fell asleep on duty…"  
  
"Scott. You got the job done. I don't blame you for falling asleep while you were waiting. There was nothing you could do anyway and I guess Ned knows the set up well enough. You made him comfortable first - Virgil tells me you gave him your shirt and froze yourself? Well I can't ask more of my boys than that. I'm proud of you. You were alert when it mattered. I'd say a bit of sleep helped the rescue more ultimately than trying to stay awake."  
  
"Thanks Father. I don't believe you, but thanks."  
  
"Go to bed Son, you still look as if you're about to collapse. Grandma's got something good cooking." Suddenly Alan piped up,  
  
"Boy, is Virg going to be for it! He had that pack of cookies from Grandma still in Thunderbird Two. I made him wait till we got Scott, and we forgot. I bet he's eaten them."  
  
"I'm too tired to care, I'll grab something from the kitchen now. 'Night Father, 'night Alan." Scott wandered off to the kitchen. As he came through the door he could see a flurry of activity on the opposite side of the room. He sneaked open the door of the refrigerator and pulled out a chocolate tart, cut into neat slices. He was just about to make off with it, when a chilling voice hit him across the room.  
  
"Scott Tracy, you put that right back! I don't care if you've been out thirty-six hours on twelve different rescues, you don't steal my chocolate tart! That's for the party tonight. You can have toast or soup, Tin-Tin will bring it to you, and when you get up tonight you can wait for your pudding like everyone else. Now get out of my kitchen when I'm busy." Scott retreated under this fire,  
  
"Soup please Grandma, sorry, I…"  
  
"Get out!" Scott almost ran out of the kitchen, Tin-Tin giggling in the corner, and went to his room. He showered quickly and got into his pyjamas and was sat up in bed when Tin-Tin knocked and entered with his soup.  
  
"Well, you look a little better. Here, have your soup. You should know better than to try to steal food while Grandma is actually in the kitchen." Scott smiled, soothed by the soft sounds of Tin-Tin's accent. She sat on the side of his bed while he ate.  
  
"You've had a pretty rough day. What did you say to Ned?" Scott coughed,  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, about him always getting into trouble. Your Father was moaning about people who don't know when to get out of somewhere."  
  
"Oh Ned's alright. He. Well, he's been asked nicely and I'll keep at him…" Scott trailed off, looking at Tin-Tin out of the corner of his eye to see if she had noticed anything. She looked confused for a second, but then continued,  
  
"Well I'm glad you're safe. I was worried about you, and Virgil; being on a rescue when you were so tired. It could be dangerous." Her soft hand stroked Scott's arm and then moved up to caress his face, rasping slowly over the line of stubble on his cheek.  
  
"We've probably been more tired before. It was just that the adrenaline had gone down when we thought we were going home, so it was hard to build that up again. Tin-Tin, hands off, honey. I've told you before. Alan's in the lounge debriefing. If you want to flirt, go do it with him." Tin-Tin pouted a little, then smiled,  
  
"Poor Scott, always so serious. You ought to get yourself a date."  
  
"You stop messing Alan about and I might be prepared to take your advice. Here, I've finished my soup. Thanks for that, Tin-Tin." She took the tray from him and they kissed on the cheek.  
  
"Sleep well." Said Tin-Tin, and left, the door sliding shut behind her.  
  
Scott lay back, closed his eyes and slept.  
  
He woke six hours later with the Image of Ned Cook blazing brightly in the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes again and thought as his mind raced through snatch after snatch of dream narrative, seconds contained hours as he plunged through the last selection of dreams from his sleep.  
  
He was with Ned, they were in the chamber, but it was the cockpit of Thunderbird One, which he was flying, except he wasn't because he was talking to Ned, so Alan must be flying, but there was too much room, maybe they were in Thunderbird Two, anyway, it didn't matter where they were because he was sat next to him with his arm through Ned's and they were in the lounge in Tracy Villa and he was trying to explain to his father about him and Ned, but he kept bottling out and coming back to the same point again, and trying again, and bottling out, and it wasn't Ned, it was Virgil, Ned was in the kitchen and Grandma was shouting at him for making a chocolate tart, no she was shouting at Scott, but Ned was behind him with his arms round his waist and he turned round and kissed him, but Tin-Tin was pulling Ned away and telling him that Scott loved Alan because he had a voice just like Ned's, and Scott was protesting that this wasn't the case and they were back outside and falling down a hole on Tracy Island, which was the chamber again and he was holding hands with Ned, but not doing anything and he was outside the hole looking down at Ned even though Ned was next to him and they could see Jeff and Alan in the swimming pool and Scott was on the diving board and he dived in. And woke with a jerk.  
  
His back was stiff from lying on the cold rock and his arms were indeed feeling the effects of being stretched between two lumps of metal in a gale. The front of his mind was worrying itself with his dreams and the future, but way back at the base of his brain was a warm, snuggly feeling, like he had a blanket wrapped round him, protecting him from the worst. He looked at the clock: 6.45pm. He was pretty sure it was still 'today', and certain that his stomach had not finished with 'today', it was rumbling like a truck and making him feel like his insides were knotting up. Clearly one bowl of soup was not enough to sustain a hungry Tracy boy on two missions…at least not a Tracy boy with the first name 'Scott'!  
  
Heaving himself out of bed, he touched his toes a few times to loosen up, swung his arms from side to side, and nearly clouted Gordon as he came through the bedroom door.  
  
"Hey! I surrender!" cried Gordon, ducking down rather dramatically.  
  
"Sorry Gord. But if you will sneak into a fella's room…"  
  
"Dad said to come and get you up before you sleep right through dinner. It's in half an hour. Like we need the competition at the table!" Scott swung another playful clout at him, and regretted it as his shoulders twinged painfully.  
  
"I'm up. When was the last time you saw me miss dinner, kid? In fact, I might just go and check out what's in the kitchen. Just…make sure it's alright, you know." Gordon grinned,  
  
"Well don't let Grandma catch you. She's still muttering something about a chocolate tart."  
  
"Oh boy! I guess I'm still in hot water then?"  
  
"Not as much as Alan. He took a load of Grandma's lemons down to the pool to further lighten his hair when she wanted them for cooking! I'm not even sure he's coming to dinner! Tin-Tin's gone to find him. I'm going to get Virgil up."  
  
Gordon left and Scott pulled on his blue roll-neck and check jacket. Maybe he could get Tin-Tin to make him another jacket soon, he'd nearly worn this one through, and it was the third she'd made for him. Still, it was his favourite and very comfortable. He wandered nonchalantly into the kitchen and put his arms round his Grandma's waist. She jumped violently and looked round.  
  
"Scott Tracy! You do that to me and I'll…" But she didn't look like she meant it.  
  
"What's for dinner Grandma?"  
  
"A good old-fashioned country stew, packed with nourishment, with Kyrano's special bread; then a choice of dessert. One you tried to steal this morning, and one your dear brother nearly stopped me from making at all. Honestly, you boys give me such a time of it. You're all as bad as your father." Scott leaned over the cooker and pulled the lid off the hot pot sitting there. "Oh no you don't! I told you this morning, out of my kitchen! Dinner's not for twenty-five minutes, and that's when you get it. Go on."  
  
Scott kissed her on the forehead and went to the lounge. Alan was sitting there, looking huffy, with Tin-Tin stroking his shoulder softly.  
  
"Did you get anything Scott?" Tin-Tin asked with a twinkle.  
  
"No such luck. I was rumbled before I could get so much as a taste. Tin-Tin tells me you're in the soup too Alan."  
  
"I didn't know she wanted the darn things! Besides, how else am I supposed to keep my hair this blond?"  
  
"You are a natural blond Alan. You really don't need to. Does he Tin-Tin?"  
  
"I think he looks lovely with it a bit lighter. It suits you Alan."  
  
"You see?" said Alan.  
  
"You missing dinner then kiddo?"  
  
"Not on your life Scott. Nice try. Mind you, I'd rather face a dozen dangerous rescues than Grandma in a bad mood. I just hope she's cooled off a bit by now."  
  
"Well, she seemed alright when I went in there…until I tried for the stew."  
  
Virgil came into the room from the hall, as Jeff came up from the pool, his hair wet, a towel draped over his arm.  
  
"Good evening boys. Feeling better?"  
  
"Yes thanks Father." Said Scott and Virgil together. Scott looked at his brother.  
  
"Did you tell dad about what Gordon did?"  
  
"No. I went straight to bed. I was falling over, Scott."  
  
"What's this boys? What did Gordon do?" So Scott explained about the girl and Gordon diving in to save her. Jeff looked concerned.  
  
"You all had quite a day didn't you? I hope he got properly warmed up once you were back on board?"  
  
"Sure Dad." Jeff hummed as Gordon came in.  
  
"That was a mighty brave thing you did today Gordon. I'm proud of you."  
  
"Gee, thanks Dad. I wasn't sure. I thought maybe it was a bit too risky. I…I wasn't going to tell you."  
  
"You risked your life to save someone else's life. It's a bad deal if it comes off badly, but that's what we're signed up for. I'm glad to know I can trust my boys. Hell, I'd be mad if you risked it for something material, or just for a stunt, but a life's a life." Gordon sat, rather red-cheeked, next to Scott on the couch. Scott asked, carelessly,  
  
"Was everything okay with Ned and Taylor when you dropped him off Virg?"  
  
"Yeah. Taylor had got back alright. He sure was glad to see Ned safe. Oh, by the way, your top's in my room, I brought it up with me. Ned said there was something you wanted to get out of it."  
  
"Uh, yeah. I, um, sewed a…thing into the hem and I don't want it washed out."  
  
"Oh, that reminds me Scott," piped up Tin-Tin, "I found a note in your pocket when I took the rest of your uniform to wash. Do you need it?" Scott almost gasped out loud, but managed to keep an even head,  
  
"Yes please Tin-Tin. Ned behaved himself then Virg?"  
  
"Sure. He was fine. He's not a bad guy actually. I thought he was kinda stupid before, but maybe he just gets a bit too worked up over his reporting. He seemed pretty level-headed today. We'll have to watch his show this week, see if he mentions it – or if he's too embarrassed to."  
  
"I can't honestly see Ned Cook getting embarrassed over anything."  
  
Just then Kyrano came in to announce that dinner was served and they all hurried through to the dining room, Scott in the lead.  
  
The next week, the Tracy family was sitting in the lounge, waiting to see The Ned Cook Show. Virgil was seated on his piano stool, restlessly picking at notes, Alan and Tin-Tin sat on one of the couches, Gordon on another. Scott was clinging to one of the poles that ran up from his father's desk, while Jeff sat in his usual chair behind it. The announcer brought their attention to the start of the programme, and Virgil took his hands off the keys. The titles ran and Ned came running onto the stage, waving at the audience and hushing them, smiling and bowing slightly at their protracted applause and cheers. Scott's stomach did an uncomfortable little flip and he stared resolutely at the screen.  
  
"Good evening folks. What a great show we have for you tonight!" Ned shouted as the audience finally calmed down, "But first, I'd like to say a few words. Many of you will remember how, not all that long ago, I was rescued from the ruins of the Empire State Building by the brave men of International Rescue. Well folks, your intrepid reporter just can't seem to help getting himself into trouble, and last week, I once again found myself in mortal danger, stuck down a hole in the freezing cold in the middle of nowhere. I owe my life once again to those fearless men. I can't tell you anything about them, firstly because I know so little, and secondly because no-one has the right to betray the trust of their rescuer, but I cannot miss this opportunity to let the world know how fantastic they are. I spent a lot of time with one of them. We had to wait for rescue gear to arrive and it left us chatting for a while. I tell you now folks, if ever you need to be rescued, pray that whoever comes to your aid is as charming, highly trained and reliable as the man who saved me. If you're listening out there buddy, thanks, and get yourself some leave, you deserve it. Now on to the show, first we're going to se a man who has wowed the world with his…" Jeff turned off the screen and turned to face his sons.  
  
"I guess that's enough. Well, all credit to the man, he knows what we did and he knows to keep his mouth shut…I wouldn't have believed it of him. I thought he was generous last time, but he seems to have a soft spot for Scott," Jeff said, chuckling, then Virgil piped up,  
  
"Yeah Scott, how come you got singled out for special mention? As far as I remember all you did was go down a hole and fall asleep! How did you come out of that as…what was it? Oh, 'Charming, highly trained and reliable?" Scott turned quickly to his brother, but saw the twinkle in Virgil's eye and laughed,  
  
"Well Virg, I must be a very charming sleeper. I tie a more comfy rope harness than you ever did too, so he was probably grateful."  
  
"My harnesses are fine."  
  
"Yes, except that if you happen to be a boy, you come out with two meat and four veg!"  
  
"Boys!" interrupted Jeff, warningly.  
  
"Sorry Father," muttered Scott, "But I can answer you actually Virg, Ned remembered me from the last time. I had to chase him for his film of Thunderbird, remember? He thought it was quite nice that I apologised to him for having wiped it." Scott stopped, not sure whether he wanted to have said this. Virgil looked at him and rolled his eyes, Gordon decided to put his oar in  
  
"I recall something about not being supposed to get ourselves remembered." Jeff looked sharply at Gordon.  
  
"Back off your brother Gordon. He didn't tell anything he shouldn't. You can interfere when you come out with such a glowing report. You all did well last week. I'm not having any sniping in this house.  
  
Scott got up and went to leave. Tin-Tin called him to stop,  
  
"Do you want that note Scott? I've got it in my room, shall I come and get it for you?" Scott nodded,  
  
"Thanks Tin-Tin." Virgil was playing softly on the piano as they left the room, Alan gazing wistfully after Tin-Tin, but too comfortable to get up and follow.  
  
Scott followed Tin-Tin down the corridor to her room and stood at the door while she rummaged on her dressing table,  
  
"I put it here somewhere. I didn't know I'd put so much stuff down on here! Oh come in Scott, for goodness' sake!" Scott stepped into the room as Tin-Tin found the scrap of paper. She turned round and gave it to him, standing very close.  
  
"There you are. Ned's phone number. I didn't tell. Your father would blow his top." Scott took a small step back and bumped into a chair. He sat down hard and struggled to get up.  
  
"I've only got it so I can tell him off if he forgets to leave us alone or puts himself too much at risk. He admitted he's stupid sometimes."  
  
"You're blushing Scott. I'm not convinced. I won't say a word, but you could stop telling me off in return."  
  
"What? I don't understand, Tin-Tin."  
  
"Fancy saying I flirt with you."  
  
"You're not saying it's not true?"  
  
"Well…" Tin-Tin looked at her hands coyly. "Oh, but you know I don't mean it Scott."  
  
"Doesn't that make it worse?" Tin-Tin ignored him.  
  
"I mean, I'd be a saint not to in a house with five brave and handsome boys. But I'm not that bad, you're lovely, but you're not Alan, and I'm pretty certain you're not available."  
  
"What do you mean?" But Tin-Tin just smiled sweetly at him and walked out of her room, back to the lounge and Alan, leaving Scott to make his own way out.  
  
"Father?" Scott asked as he came into the lounge later that evening.  
  
"What's up Scott?" his father asked in return. Scott bit his lip, he knew what the answer to his question was going to be, but he had to try. Not doing anything was driving him mad. The lurching sensation every time Ned's face floated into his mind, the dreams, the daydreams that had his brothers looking at him oddly. Maybe seeing Ned again wouldn't change any of this; maybe it would make it worse, but he had to ask.  
  
"Father, can I take a couple of days' leave?"  
  
"When Scott?"  
  
"Well I was kinda hoping this week." Jeff looked at him appraisingly and wandered out onto the balcony with him for a chat.  
  
"No Scott. You know Alan's going up to do his stint on Thunderbird Five tomorrow. I can't replace you with John, he's just not experienced enough to go out on his own, and he can't really cope with the speed of Thunderbird One. You'll have to wait till Alan gets back."  
  
"Can't you trust John at all? He's been out a few times now. Virgil would look after him"  
  
"No Scott. You know I can't. John's a great kid, and good at what he does, but he doesn't have the training the rest of you have. He can be a bit erratic. That's just what he is, but there isn't room for the sorts of errors he makes on a rescue. He needs someone to command him, and Virgil can't do everything on his own. Why the sudden need for leave anyway? Not listening to Ned Cook are you?"  
  
"I…I'm tired I guess. I just wanted to get away for a bit. That last rescue with Ned and being so tired already. It scared me a bit. I just thought it might do me good to get away."  
  
"Sure Scott. But you'll have to wait. It's only a month. I depend on you for this. You understand that."  
  
"Sure, Dad." Scott looked out to sea, leaning on the balcony, his father's hand on his shoulder. 'I depend on you': words Scott was usually happy to hear, happy to feel that he could help his father, that he could take some of the strain of running International Rescue off his shoulders. But today… Scott cursed himself inwardly: 'Pull yourself together. Nothing's changed here, so don't expect what you have no right to.' Jeff looked at his eldest son,  
  
"You've been a bit preoccupied this last week, it's not like you. Anything you want to tell me?"  
  
"No. I'm off to bed. Sorry to bother you Father."


	5. A Trip to Thunderbird Five

Scott and Alan sat on the couch in the lounge and waited as their father pushed the button on his desk that sunk them down through the floor and along the track towards Thunderbird Three's hangar. Alan carried a bag with the few bits he needed to take with him up to Thunderbird Five, while Scott was nursing an extra big bag of Grandma's cookies, and looking none too eager to part with any of them. As they disappeared from Jeff's view, they looked at each other, Alan grinned and he and Scott shuffled over each other, clinging to the couch, until they had swapped sides, Alan now sitting where Scott had been and vice versa. It was a cheap trick, but they'd been doing it for a laugh since the first time they travelled down together: one of Alan's better practical jokes. Gordon had reported on its success that first time: the look on Jeff's face as the couch came into view on his screen about halfway down the hydraulic pole, and his sons were in opposite places. He had never asked them whether they had swapped and the joke should have worn thin by now, but they still did it from time to time to try to catch him out.

They arrived, up through the floor, in Thunderbird Three, and the couch clicked into place. Making their way up to the control room in the lift, Alan changing into his uniform en route, Scott settled himself behind the flight console and prepared her for take-off. Alan slid in beside him after pulling his boots on and flicked open comms to his father.

"Okay Alan, you're cleared for take-off. Fly safely, and try not to be too long Scott."

"FAB," said Scott, flicked off comms and rolled his eyes. "I'll be as long as it takes Father." Alan looked at him, his hand on the chemical rockets' control, pulling it slowly back,

"Lift-off. You alright Scott?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just don't often hear you talk back at Dad, even when he's not around."

"I don't know. I guess I shouldn't. Just sometimes I'd like him to ease off a bit. It's hard for him. I can't complain."

"I know, that's always your attitude. I just thought you sounded a bit…" Scott waved him away.

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who's gonna be stuck up here for the next month."

"Your one in eight is coming up pretty fast."

"Yeah, great. I wouldn't mind if it weren't for the thought of you piloting Thunderbird One."

"Have I ever harmed her?"

"No, but you scare the hell out of me, some of the things you do with her. She's not a puny little race car you know." Alan giggled,

"Well she sure as hell doesn't handle like one. At least they don't pitch and roll when you're least expecting it. A little yaw I can handle, but her directional jet seems to be designed for people who like rough seas."

"She goes up perfectly straight for me. That's what I mean. You've been lucky, but I've seen you, firing that jet off at any old angle, sending her nose straight at the ground. You know what I get to paint that nose cone with? Your leftovers from this baby. That's it. I get all the lumpy bits from the bottom of your spray can. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get that stunning glossy finish with dregs? And you merrily blast off, almost skinning her. She has handy little pitch and yaw jets in that nose cone to stop you doing that."

"Anything else?" Alan asked, smirking,

"Your control is a bit bumpy. I don't know how I slept last week, it's like being in a swing. Watching you flying her is like watching some drunk reeling around. I cannot understand it. Give you a car or a personal rocket pack or a good old bog-standard plane and you're steady as a rock. I think you just do it to scare me!"

"Are my vertical landings alright, or are they awful too?"

"Oh once you've got her upright you're perfect. I guess Dad wouldn't let you take Thunderbird Three down through the round house otherwise. If it was anything like your piloting of mine, we'd have no round house left!" Scott tried to look surly, but caught sight of his brother's wrinkled up nose and grinned, running his tongue over his front teeth.

They chatted about this and that for the rest of the journey, until the gently drifting ring of Thunderbird Five came into view. Alan swung the rocket around until it was directly in line with the docking port, then handed control over to Scott and went to pick up his bag. As Thunderbird Three clunked home into the airlock, Scott swung the console around to face the door and John's face appeared on the comms screen.

"You're early."

"Only ten minutes. I'd have thought you'd be glad. Anything going on?"

"No. Nothing. I've been trying to pin down an asteroid I never saw before. I guess that'll have to wait. I'll see if Alan can keep an eye on it. Opening airlock." Alan disappeared down the tube into Thunderbird Five and Scott saw him emerge at the other end. He watched as John showed Alan the speck of dust he'd been following on a small screen, slapped him chummily on the back, waved and entered the airlock.

"Closing airlock," came Alan's voice, "See you fellas. You owe me ten minutes John."

"Sure kid." Scott pushed the button that released the clamps holding them in the airlock, and fired the retros to push them away from the space station. John relaxed in the spare seat, happy to let his older brother fly him home.

"How's things at home Scott?"

"Just fine. Well, Dad's a bit jumpy at the moment for some reason, but since there's been nothing doing this last week, it's pretty quiet."

"I guess he was pretty worried on that last one. It's probably taking him a while to recover."

"Really? I didn't think it was too tough really. I mean it was tiring, but not stupidly dangerous."

"He was on to me practically the whole time, checking whether you'd called in yet. Don't forget, you weren't responding for a good half hour. We didn't know what was going on."

"I'd forgotten that. It was a surprise to me." Scott closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. John ruffled his hair and spoke softly,

"You sure you're alright Scott? You always call in more when you're anxious or a bit off colour, and I've had more calls on your shift than I think I've ever had before. You don't look that fantastic to be honest." Scott opened his eyes, then closed them again, enjoying the sensation of John's delicate fingers in his hair. John always was a marvel at little touches, quick massages, fleeting strokes, always unexpected, always divinely pleasurable, and quite different from his somewhat abrasive and exclusive turn of speech.

"I don't know. I'm not sleeping so well I guess."

"You're sleeping!" John withdrew his hand and stared in phoney astonishment at Scott.

"Less than I was. I need some leave and Dad won't let me take it till Alan's back down.

"Why not? Oh, yeah, I freak if I have to pilot Thunderbird One. I guess I'm not really heroic enough either, yeah?"

"Something like that. Nice to have you down with us for a bit though Johno. I've missed having you around. Alan's been a handful this week. Tin-Tin's having one of her little flirty phases and it's driving him potty. If one of them is playing up, it just sets the other off. You can absorb some of it now you're back."

"I'm not complaining. She strokes my feet while I'm writing, it's really nice."

"She strokes Virgil's arm while he's flying, it's enough to send Alan off into a week-long huff. And it doesn't help that Virgil looks smug as all time when she's doing it."

"You can't pretend you don't like her Scott."

"Well of course I like her, she's a lovely girl. She's just a bit risky to be around. And too damn clever." John got up, moved behind Scott and started to massage his shoulders.

"Yep, thought so, you're screwed up like a wire rope. Relax, will you. Dad's not going to find out."

Scott almost leapt out of his chair,

"What!" John sat back down, his hands up in a gesture of surrender,

"Hey, keep calm for me bro. No-one else knows, I swear." Scott thought for a moment, then said carefully,

"Knows what?" John raised his eyebrows,

"Well we are cautious aren't we? About Ned. Tin-Tin called. She said she needed someone to tell, ask if I thought so too. Knew she could trust me. Knew I'd probably tell you, so don't think she was being all secretive."

"Why you?" John looked a little hurt,

"Why not? I spend the least time with you all, maybe she though I'd be more objective. Why? Would you rather she'd told Alan or Gordon?" Scott shook his head.

"So, what did she tell you? Because it's not necessarily true."

"She said you'd been acting oddly since you came back from that rescue with him, you were finding it a bit more difficult to fall into 'on-duty Scott mode' which is very unusual, you had his phone number in your pocket, you kept the top he'd been wearing without a good excuse, you colour up when someone talks about him or you see him on telly, you're really casual when you talk about him – almost too casual, you want leave to go to the mainland, and he spoke extremely highly of you on his show and even told you to get leave, which isn't something you'd normally think Ned Cook would say. Now, I don't know what you were up to in that rescue zone, but you had ample opportunity to get to know him. Putting all the evidence together, I'd come to much the same conclusion as Tin-Tin."

"What?"

"That you're probably crazy in love with him, and he's pretty sweet on you from the sound of things. Am I right?" Scott rubbed fretfully at his fingernails

"…He's sweet on me alright. As for me, I don't know. I don't want to be. It's too difficult. I didn't even know really that I was that way. But…"

"But you save things he's been wearing, and you colour up at the mention of him. You are now."

"Oh hell John, when did you get to be such an expert?"

"Okay. Quick test. Where have you put that top? I'm gonna take a guess, from what you used to do with your blanket when you were a kid and what I reckon's going on now, I'd say it's under your pillow. Maybe even in your pillowcase, so no-one finds it if they muss your bed. Am I right?" Scott rubbed his forehead and nodded.

"Am I that obvious?"

"No. Tin-Tin worked it out easily because that's who she is. Put all the evidence together and it's easy. The others won't do it. Not right now. But keep moping and they will. Well, Grandma will at any rate."

"I'm not moping."

"Alright. You're not really, but you are behaving weirdly. Not totally off the wall, just..."

"You have no idea how hard I've tried to keep going normally. I don't know what to do."

"You going to go and see him?"

"I promised. But whether I can see him after that…What's the point John? Dad would never let him on the base."

"So when are you going to find someone to settle down with? Dad trusts you Scott. If you told him what you wanted, sure, he'd be mad at you at first, but he'd come round. You're his golden boy. He may be as fair with us all as any father can be, but I've never seen him so scared as when he lost contact with you. He'd never hold anything against you for too long."

"It'd compromise security, I couldn't do it."

"You don't trust Ned, huh?" Scott paused.

"Yeah," he said eventually, "I do, but I don't know why and I don't think I could explain it to Dad. I don't know that I'd want to anyway. My duty is to International Rescue. It's my job to get out there and save lives and keep my nose clean and stop my brothers getting into trouble. There's nothing more important."

"Not even ending up old and lonely?" Scott shook his head. John raised his eyebrows again,

"Did you kiss him?" Scott coloured up again. "Nice. Yeah?" Scott nodded. "Want to do it again?" Scott nodded. "I rest my case. You handle it how you like Scott, but I'd bet you a hundred you won't sleep right till you've seen him. You get leave the moment I'm back up here, otherwise I'll be the one pestering you. You get with Ned and I'll dedicate my next book to the pair of you."

"How's it coming on?"

"Subject changer! It's going well. I had hell with the last chapter, I was so damn sure of what I was writing, then I got some new info and had to start over. But I reckon it's good now. Just another forty to go."


	6. Peril in the Snow

Three days later Scott was in the boat pen, helping Gordon clean the hull of the speedboat. A bleeping sound suddenly came through over the lapping water and the buzz of the scraper.

"That's us," said Scott, and they downed tools and hurried up to the lounge.

"Quickly boys," said Jeff as they entered, "Scott, I want you to launch Thunderbird One right away."

"Yes, Sir." Scott sped to the wall panel, grabbed the light fittings and disappeared behind the revolve.

"Virgil, take Gordon and John. The roof of a large public building has collapsed due to the weight of snow. A lot of people are trapped and they're running out of time. Take the excavator, maybe the domo too. Grandma's packing up your extreme cold suits, she's putting Scott's in Thunderbird Two, so you'll have to get it to him when you get there." Alan's picture signal went off, "Go ahead Alan. Get going boys." Jeff shooed his other three sons off to their craft.

"Father, I've been talking to one of the rescuers there at the moment. They've had to temporarily stop work, it's too dangerous, there's more snow falling and the hall next to them looks like it might go too. They can still hear people, but it's so cold they don't think they'll survive much longer."

"Okay Alan. Tell them help is on its way. Scott's already left, I just saw him go. Keep listening to their frequency, see if you can get any more information. I'll tell Scott where to head." Jeff flicked off the monitor after Alan's smart 'FAB', and called up Scott instead.

"Go ahead, Father."

"I've sent the flight details straight to Thunderbird's computer Scott. Are you getting them?"

"Yes, I see them. Changing to horizontal flight. I'll have to bank round the area and come in from the west I think Father, there's a terrific wind blowing from the east according to the charts, and I don't want to land with it."

"Okay Scott, but be quick about it. There are people dying in there."

"Sure Father, at maximum speed now. ETA Twenty-eight minutes."

"Virgil's right behind you. He's carrying your cold suit. I want you to get it off him as soon as he lands. I don't want you getting stuck in there without it, even if you're hot while you're working."

"FAB." Scott closed the channel and made a minor adjustment to the flight path. He felt calm and started to hum a tune softly to himself. "Bah bu-bah-baa, buh-buh-bah-bah, bah buh-bah-bah-bah-baaaa…" His brain was working again. On-duty Scott was back. He wasn't thinking about Ned. No sir. He wasn't thinking about…

Ned.

Thunderbird one touched down, straining her directional jet against the wind as Scott fought to keep her under control. The nose cone was caked in ice and it had taken a shrieking grind of power to open her wings for the descent.

"And I thought that hole was cold," Scott said to himself, looking at the environmental reports in front of him. He called his father.

"Go ahead Scott."

"I've landed, Father."

"How does it look Scott?"

"Hellish. It froze up my wings on the way in. It's a blizzard out there. I can't even see the place. I'll have to wait for it to ease a bit. I wouldn't stay upright for ten seconds out there. How far behind is Virgil?"

"He can't get to you for at least fifty minutes. You'll have to start without him. What can you see there?

"The radar scan shows the collapsed building, two other buildings next to it, about eight vehicles and, a helijet? Don't know what that's doing here. Must be a rescue craft I guess. I'll try to find out." Scott called off and put himself through to Virgil.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, loud and clear Scott. What's the position?"

"You need to put your foot down Virgil. There's people dying here. I'm trapped in Thunderbird One for the moment, the weather's too dangerous. I'm going to talk to the rescue team here in a minute. Can you cut any time off your ETA?"

"That's a negative, Scott. I'm pushing her to the limit already. I'm doing five thousand and twenty with a tailwind. If I push her any more I'll end up in the sea. When we get closer I'll send Gordon and John through to get everything ready to save time, but I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

"Okay Virg. Just keep it up. Over and out." Scott changed channel again to speak to Alan.

"Space Station to Thunderbird One, how's it looking Scott?"

"I don't know Alan, it's a whiteout here. Radar's showing me where everything is, but without a vehicle and a suit I daren't go out there. Can you patch me through to the guy you've been talking to? Maybe we can work something out down here."

"FAB," said Alan, and Scott heard the line click through.

"This is Scott Tracy in Thunderbird One calling ground rescue team, can you hear me?"

"We hear you Mr. Tracy," replied a thickly accented voice.

"Alright, can you give me a rundown of what's happened and what you've been doing."

"The roof of the main building collapsed under the weight of snow. The walls are still standing, but they are in danger of falling, as is one of the buildings next to it, which could fall and crush more of the walls. The roof has fallen in large sections, so there are pockets underneath and we pulled two people out from right near the entrance. But of course, it is so very dangerous to go in there under that roof and it is very cold so the people will be freezing and starving. We had to abandon our task a while ago because of this storm, it was too dangerous. When it eases we will go back, but we cannot hope to save them. It is for you to try."

"Thanks buddy. Now look, at the moment I'm stuck in my aircraft because of the storm. I've traced your signal, so I know where you are. I want you to stay put until I come to find you. We can't have people around the building when we're trying to work. It will be dangerous. I'd like you and your team to stay away and prepare to receive any survivors. Or bodies. Okay?"

"Of course, if that is the most we can do to help."

"Well, you can give me any extra information you can. What is the building's roof made of?"

"It was steel and strengthened glass. The centre was supported on pillars, that's why it came down in sections."

"What about the walls?"

"Stone."

"Do these storms happen often? How long do they last?"

"They are not so often like this. Very often it snows, but like this…I think it will not last long. Maybe half an hour if we have not so much luck."

"Who's in there? Do you know? Numbers, what type of people?"

"I have made guesses with the two we rescued earlier. We think perhaps fifty or sixty people were inside. But who they are, I do not know. They were just the ordinary people, so perhaps children as well as men and women. They may be old or young. I cannot tell."

"Well, we'll find out. Thanks pal. You keep yourselves warm and I'll get back to you in about forty minutes."

Scott called off and swept the area with the infra-red sensor, but the cold was too intense and the area too big to show anything up. He called Virgil again.

"Go ahead Scott."

"Virgil, I've spoken to the guy who's coordinating the current rescue, but they're still snowed in like me. He says it was a stone walled construction with a steel and strengthened glass roof on pillars. The roof has fallen in pockets, so initial survival could be good in places. But I don't rate their chances in this cold. He thinks there might have been children in there too." Virgil whistled through his teeth,

"I'll send Gordon down to get the Domo set up for it. Maybe we can pull some of the roof off with the grabs?"

"Maybe. I can't see what the damage is like right now, but he said this shouldn't last too long."

"Well, my ETA is now twenty minutes, managed to find a high altitude tailwind that nearly ripped my wings off, but it cut the time."

"Well done Virgil! I think it might be easing off a bit out there. I told the rescue team to stay put till we came to find them. They're going to receive whoever we pull out of there."

"Great. Look Scott, I had a call from Alan. There's a live broadcast going out from there, or there was until the storm came in. I guess that's what the helijet's there for. Guess who's making that broadcast."

"Don't tell me."

"Yep. He's not in there though, last call off they were in the helijet, so you might not actually have to rescue him this time."

"What's he doing here?"

"He goes for anything big doesn't he. I guess this was too good to miss. Great story. You'd better get in contact with him though. Remind him not to film and keep him out of the way."

"I swept for a frequency for the helijet earlier, it's not responding. I'll check when I get out of here."

Fifteen minutes later Virgil called back in.

"Scott, I'm in the area. I can't see a thing, can you guide me in?"

"Got you on radar. You're directly over the collapsed building. Head Due North about 600 yards." Virgil did so and Scott stopped him.

"You're overhead, right right thirty degrees, then you shouldn't land on me."

"Coming into land now Scott." Scott heard the landing jets as they boiled off the snow beneath and the thud of the huge craft landing beside him. The whine of hydraulic rams pushing the main body off pod six could just be heard over the howl of the wind. Virgil spoke again.

"I'm sending John over to you in the excavator. Bring the infra-red scanner and your communicator and he'll bring you back here to get suited up. You're right, you'd be blown away in this." Scott waited until he heard a rumbling motor beneath the nose of Thunderbird One.

"John to Thunderbird One, I'm directly below your hatch Scott. I reckon you can lower the ladder right down to the entry hatch and climb in without letting go. Boy is it blowy out here."

"FAB," said Scott, and opened the hatch below him. A blast of freezing air assaulted him and he screwed up his eyes. He pushed the ladder down manually until it hit the red body of the excavator that he could hardly see below him. Grasping the ladder firmly, his kit strapped to his belt, he made his way down until he could grasp one of the grab handles on the side of the excavator. The wind whipped round him, throwing him off balance as he operated the remote closure on the hatch with his watch. With his eyes firmly shut, Scott pulled himself round to the entry hatch and fumbled it open, his hands already stiff with cold. Throwing himself into the confines of the cabin, he shut the door and took a deep breath.

"Ow!" said John, who had received Scott's heel in his shoulder as he came through the hatch.

"Sorry John," Scott said, "It's hopeless out there." He pulled himself upright, squeezed tightly into the space around John, the cabin really not being designed for two people. John trundled the excavator back to the pod and drove in. Gordon was already in the domo, preparing to drive it out. In the shelter of the pod, Scott got out of the machine and headed over to where Virgil was getting into his cold suit. John followed, reaching for his own in the wall storage.

"Well Virgil, we're gonna have to go two in each of these, over to the buildings, you can't stand up out there. When we get to the buildings, I want you to take the excavator and get as close in as you can to investigate, take John and he can do the infra-red scan. I'm going to go and talk to the team that's here and also to Ned if I can get across. Gordon, I want you to stay in the Domo and follow Virgil up, if you think any of it's going to give, try to hold it. We can't do more until the storm dies down a bit."

"FAB Scott," replied the others.

The two machines rolled slowly over to the ruined building and Scott checked his bearings for the rescue team.

"Virgil, you go on," he called. "Gordon, head east…here" A low bunker-like building loomed out of the snow-filled air and Gordon brought the Domo round with its back to the door. Scott scrambled out of the hatch and flung himself at the entrance as Gordon drove off.

The door opened and Scott found himself in a tiny room, fuggy with the breath of about twenty stockily built men and one woman, all dressed in heavy winter clothing. Scott pulled back his own hood as he quickly shut the door.

"Scott Tracy. Good to see you guys safe and warm." They introduced him. About half spoke English. The leader, who introduced himself as Evgeny, told Scott that the woman and the man next to her were the two they had rescued.

"Okay. My buddies are heading round the building now to take a look, but you still can't walk out there. They'll do their best to stop any more falling. If we get anyone else out of there, is there anywhere else for them to go? It's a bit cramped in here."

"There is nowhere. Only the other buildings which are also dangerous."

"Okay. I'll arrange something. There's a helijet parked about twenty-five yards from here. I know the people in there, I'm going to try to get over there. Stay put. I'll be back soon." Scott pulled up his hood, opened the door, dropped to his knees as the door closed behind him, and crawled on his belly in the direction of the helijet. He found one of its legs with his head, hauled himself up on it and found the door. Pressing the button by the door, it opened and he climbed in.

Two heads turned in shock as Scott appeared in the cabin of the helijet. He pulled off his hood once more and rubbed the snow off his face.

"Scott!" Ned gasped. I tried to call you, but our radio's down. Who called?"

"The leader of the rescue team here. Did you meet him? Evgeny."

"Yeah, I met him. He wasn't very happy because we were filming, but I had to report it. I couldn't have helped if I'd wanted to. What's it like out there now? We came back here because we were being blown of our feet. This is Bob by the way, my cameraman. Bob, this is Scott. He saves lives." Scott felt himself colouring in spite of the cold, and shook his head.

"It's still bad. I'm glad you were sensible and got back here in time. When the storm passes, you'd better head off. You can't film while we're operating and it'll be over when we've finished." Ned shook his head,

"Can't. Something's bust on this thing. We only just made it in. We came through a bit of an electrical storm on our way here and it knocked out the radio and sent the jets haywire. No control. Bob only just avoided landing on that hut thing. Besides, I'd rather stay and help if I can. I feel kinda bad about not helping earlier now."

"Well, you could join the rescue party if you want to, but you'll have to do as they say. And keep your camera in here."

"Sure Scott."

"I'm going back to the hut now, I'll send someone to fetch you when it's safe." Scott opened the door and looked out. "Hey, it's dying down. I can see the hut and the building. Pull your coat on and come with me, I'll take you to the hut now." Ned did as he was told, but Bob stayed put. "Not coming?" asked Scott. Bob shook his head. "Okay, stay warm Bob." Scott climbed down to the ground and Ned followed him, grabbing his coat at the bottom as the wind whipped snow up into his face, but less fiercely now. Scott took him to the hut and pulled him inside. Then opened comms to Virgil and Gordon.

"Virg? I've got Ned back to the hut with the rescue team. He's going to help out here. Wind seems to be dying down. What's the verdict?"

"Okay Scott, I've been round twice. The walls of this one look like they'll hold, but the roof looks like it's balancing pretty finely. John's scanned the place and we reckon there are maybe twenty people still alive in there. Might be more, hopefully, if the snow is blocking the signal in places. They were probably making for the doors when they heard it creaking. I'd say start near the doors and work in."

"Are we going to be able to get in there on foot Virgil?"

"Negative, I'd say. The worst damage is around the front, the roof has slipped in off the wall, but held on a pillar. If we could lift that section out, we might stand a chance with that first lot."

"Okay Virgil. I think it's calm enough to walk around out there now. Let John out with the scan results and the rescue gear near this hut, then get back to Thunderbird Two and standby to lift the roof if you can. Hopefully the EM grabs will hold on the steel under-structure. Gordon, I want you to stay in the Domo and get round to the northern side wall. Virgil, you're going to pull the roof section up onto one side and lean it against that wall, otherwise you'll dump a loan of snow on whoever's under there. Gordon, when you can, try to get a grip on that roof section. Tell Virgil when you've got it safely and he'll let go. I want Thunderbird Two over there as little as possible, and keep as high as you can Virg, your jets could knock those sections off balance if we're not careful. Tell me when you're heading over and I'll come out." The door opened and a wind-swept John entered as Virgil and Gordon replied,

"FAB Scott."

"Hi John, got those results? This is Evgeny and the local rescue team. And this is Ned Cook." Scott held John with steady blue eyes for a moment, but John knew better than to go off-topic with Scott during a rescue, and just shook hands with Ned and Evgeny and nodded to the others. He handed the scan results to Scott, who memorised them quickly and handed them back to John. He pulled two snow shifters from the pack John had brought in and handed one to his brother. It was a long shovel with a variable-heated blade and a pump hose at the back. As the snow was cut, it melted on the blade and the slush was fired back over the operator's shoulder or could be funnelled down a hose to a collection tank or more distant point. Scott strapped his on over his warm coat, checked his medi-pack was still firmly attached. Then he turned to the rest of the group,

"We're about to attempt the rescue. We'll be lifting the roof and it won't be safe for any of you to be near. The two of us are going to get in there when we can and try to find people, but we'll be against the clock, we've already lost a lot of time. I want half of you to wait outside this hut and come to get people when we bring them out, and keep an eye on anything that changes in terms of the weather or the stability of the surrounding buildings keep the channel open on this transceiver set so we can hear each other. We might be too busy to notice. Then swap over when you get too cold, I don't want anyone freezing out there. Evgeny, can you sort that out please?" The big man nodded and started talking fast in his own language and pointing at people. Scott's comms set went off and he answered it.

"Go ahead Virgil."

"I'm almost in position Scott, if you come out now I'll move directly overhead and lower grabs. Gordon's already in position."

"Okay Virgil. Are you ready Gordon?"

"Yes Scott. In position now. I just hope I can hold that thing, even the Domo is slipping on this ice."

"Do what you can Gordon. Coming over now." He beckoned John and they left the shelter and made their way across to the collapsed building. Behind them, half of Evgeny's team huddled in the lee of their shelter with the transceiver, watching intently.

"Moving into position now, at maximum reach. I can see a bit where the snow's slidden off. I'm aiming for there," said Virgil, and Scott and John watched as the snow-covered hulk moved slowly across, over the building.

"In position. Lowering grabs now," said Virgil, sounding like all his concentration was being poured into this one action. The steel cables with the giant magnets on the ends lowered slowly from a hatch near Thunderbird Two's nose, and descended into the building. Scott could hear Virgil's breathing, even over his tiny receiver, and he bit his lip.

"Gently does it Virg," he murmured, encouragingly.

"Grabs down on roof surface. They're sliding on the glass. I can see a beam just above where they've landed, I'm going to drag them up the slope and hope they catch. Damn!" The motors on Thunderbird Two suddenly changed frequency as a gust of wind caught the machine and it fought to stabilise round its gyro.

"Are you alright Virgil?" Scott asked, anxious.

"Yeah. Alright Scott. The wind caught me just as I had it. I thought the lines had knocked the roof for a second, but it's okay. Trying again." A pause. "I've got it Scott! Lifting now. Stand by Gordon."

"Standing by." Thunderbird Two pulled slowly to the north as Virgil inched in the cables on their winch. The grabs seemed to be holding on the beam, and the section of roof tilted painfully up on its side towards the waiting Domo, a sheet of snow massing at its base and making it even heavier to move.

"Gordon, can you get it yet? I don't think the grabs will hold much longer at this angle." Gordon pulled a lever in the Domo and the hydraulic arms extended over the top of the stone wall and reached towards the raising roof.

"Not quite Virgil, another couple of yards and I'll just be able to reach it." Virgil hauled in more of the cable, the roof tilted up further. But one of the grabs began to slip.

"Quickly Gordon, I'm losing it!" cried Virgil. Gordon pushed the lever home and the suction cups found the glass, holding the smooth surface easily.

"Got it!" he called, and they heard Virgil's sigh of relief.

"Winding in cables now and moving off Scott, you'd better get in there quickly."

"Right, good work Virgil. Gordon, hold her steady now, John and I are going in."

The door of the building was wood, half pushed out by the fall of snow, and Scott pulled it free easily. He and John started up their snow-shifters, glad that there was only the faintest trace of snowfall continuing. Inside the door a great bank of snow showed what had fallen off the side of the roof as it slid inwards, beyond, it looked less deep, the section uncovered by Virgil representing the nearest eighth or so of the area. Scott recalled the scan results and concentrated his work on the area to the left of the door, sending John straight ahead. The shifter cleared snow at a high speed, but the total mass was so great that Scott hardly seemed to be getting anywhere. He spoke into the open channel through his headset,

"How's it holding Gordon?"

"Holding fine Scott," Virgil chimed in,

"I've landed Scott, do you want me to come down and help?"

"Yes. Get a shifter and come in the front entrance. There's so much snow here it's going to take time, and that's just what we don't have."

"FAB."

Scott was still working his way through the snow on the left when Virgil arrived.

"Start clearing next to John, Virg," Scott said, and kept working on his bit. Ten minutes later there was a shout from Virgil,

"We've got one Scott! Still alive, trapped under a sort of table thing. John's checking her over, then he'll take her out to the local lot."

"Well done Virg. Go carefully shifting the furniture there." Scott heard John muttering through his checks, then a short grunt as he lifted the woman and carried her out.

"She's got hypothermia, but it looks like she escaped any other damage. Continuing the search."

Another five minutes and John was back with them. He and Virgil were now deep into the drift at the centre of the building, while Scott was approaching the sheer wall of up-tilted roof to the side. He muttered in frustration, the scan had definitely shown something over here. Another ten minutes and Virgil and John had found three more, one dead, but two alive. They were trapped in a small air space formed by a fallen partition and a countertop. The snow had caved in the access end and there was only a small gap through which they could be seen. Virgil and John got to work, cutting away the wood of the counter. The two trapped men were freezing and one of them was no longer conscious; if they weren't rescued quickly, they'd be dead.

At last Scott pushed his shifter into the snow and saw it melting away from the tip of a boot. He sped up, telling Virgil what he had found. The shifter uncovered a plank resting on the legs of a woman, Scott got to his knees and started to clear the remaining snow away with his hands as Gordon shouted down the comms channel,

"Scott! The Domo is losing its grip, I just felt it slide. It's stopped now, but I don't think it will hold much longer. You need to get out of there."

"Hold on Gordon, do all you can, I've found…" Scott stopped. He was digging frantically now uncovering the frozen, stiff legs and icy torso of the woman who hadn't made it. He sighed, squeezing his eyes, but as he opened them, he saw movement. Nestled underneath her, hanging on in what was left of her warmth, was a small boy, alive, but clearly badly hurt.

"Scott! It's slipping again." Scott looked around wildly, his eyes searching for something to help him. They lighted on a beam whose lower end was jammed in the floor, but whose upper end jutted into the air near the roof section. Scott looked at the boy, abandoned his shifter and went to the beam. It was heavy, a roof support by the look of things, but nothing would make Scott give up now. He took hold of it, as far from the base as he could reach. His lips compressed as he struggled to lift the massive pole and he spoke haltingly as he heaved,

"Virg, John?…Can you…I can't shift this…"

"We can't stop Scott, we're going to lose them."

"I can't…" Scott heaved again and the pole shifted; carrying the momentum through, he pushed it until it jammed against the roof section. Panting hard, he asked Gordon,

"Has that helped?"

"Affirmative Scott, I can hold it now, what did you do?"

"I jammed a pole…No!" He grabbed at the pole as it started to slide. His strength was just enough with the existing friction to counter the weight of the pole, but if he let go now it would fall, probably ripping the roof from the Domo's grasp and crushing him, Virgil and John and the survivors.

"That was close. Look guys, I can't move. Virgil, John, you have to work fast then come help me." Scott was shouting in his fear, Virgil tried to calm him,

"Take it easy Scott, we're going as fast as we can." Scott regained his composure, and spoke quietly now,

"Virgil, I can't hold on, my arms are starting to ache. If I let go we will all be crushed. I can feel it starting to slip, Virgil. The boy here will die if I don't get him out in the next minute or two."

"John, carry on, I'm coming Scott." But before Virgil could negotiate the long passages of cleared, but icy ground, a figure came round the corner into Scott's view.

Ned was shivering and clearly terrified, but he came steadily up to where Scott was.

"Let me help." He said, between chatters of his teeth. Scott paused only a second, his initial inclination to yell at Ned to get out of the danger area quashed by his realisation of the imminence of failure.

"Get the boy out." He said, straining with the effort of keeping the beam in place. Virgil had fallen somewhere and was cursing as he tried to regain his footing. Ned moved over to the body of the woman and reached under her.

"He's hurt. Should I move him?"

"No choice. Ned." Ned pulled at the woman's body, looking like he was about to throw up, but with a determined set to his brow. He reached down and pulled the boy up by his shoulders. The little mouth moved silently as he hugged him to his shoulder.

"Take. Him. Out. Stay out," Scott breathed. Ned looked back at him, fear displayed clearly on every inch of his face. Scott tried to smile, but his face was too screwed up with the effort, and he just looked pained. Ned went, as quickly as he could on the ice, and Virgil spoke,

"Nearly with you Scott. Hold on big bro. I'm coming, I just saw Ned outside the door, he's got the boy out safely." Then Virgil appeared round the corner, got in next to Scott and took some of the weight from him.

"What do we do now?" he asked, smiling wryly at Scott.

"If John comes here as well, maybe we can lift this thing back up and wedge it to give us time to get out. John, how are you going?"

"I'm nearly through. I think we may have lost the unconscious guy, but this one is still okay. I'll get to you as soon as I get him out."

"Be quick about it John."

In a couple of minutes, John had taken the survivor out to the local team and made it back to where his brothers struggled with half the roof. Between the three of them they managed to reposition the pole to hold its place and they quickly set to work clearing the rest of the snow, finding three more alive and five dead.

The next section was under apiece of roof that seemed well supported on its pillars, though impossible to access from the edge due to the debris built up under it. Virgil fetched the excavator and used it to gently push a piece of wall that was not playing a supportive role out of the way.

As the wall fell to the side, the clear space beneath that fallen section of roof was revealed and the chance of rescue under it looked better. Two and a half hours of intensive work with the shifters took them through the whole area, with only one terrifying moment as the roof slipped slightly as a pillar fell to the side. The remainder held, however, and twenty survivors were found huddling under a counter right at the back, only six more dead being uncovered.

"That's it then." Said Scott once they had handed the last body over to the local team. "Rescue complete. If only we could have done more." Virgil patted his brother on the back,

"Don't beat yourself up Scott. It was dangerous and difficult. We did what we could. None of them would have made it if we hadn't been here. We were lucky to survive ourselves."

"I know."

"Well there's someone who's glad you made it, Scott," said John, with a cheery edge lifting his weary voice. Ned was slipping and sliding across the snow to them, as fast as he could go. They were putting their packs in the excavator when he reached them, slowing only in the last few feet and skidding to a clumsy halt, clutching at Scott's coat for balance. He was deathly pale, but his face was registering a curious mixture of triumph and uncertainty.

"You…" he said, but seemed to run out of anything to say. That happened a lot around Scott. He was starting to notice it: so different from his on-screen babbling. Scott cast a glance at his brothers. Gordon was still off parking the Domo, John was studiously inspecting his gloves; only Virgil was watching him and Ned with frank interest, clearly having no idea of what might or might not link them. Scott didn't care. What Ned had done, the way he looked now, the way Scott felt…He leaned forward, took Ned's cold face in his gloved hands, and kissed him. He pulled him close to him and wrapped his thermal coat round Ned's freezing shoulders.

"Why the heck didn't you get in the warm like I told you?"

"I c-couldn't. I w-wouldn't have b-been able t-to s-see what was g-going on." Ned shivered, and Scott pulled him closer. He looked up at Virgil, expecting to see surprise or shock or anger, resignation, anything. Virgil had a slight smile curling the very corners of his mouth and his brown eyes were gentle and unquestioning.

"Get him up to the pod Scott, warm him up with the blankets and hot tea. I'll go and debrief the rescue team with John. Call Alan and tell him we've done, will you? Take the excavator, we'll walk up."

Twenty minutes later, Ned being warm enough to speak fluently again and Scott having changed out of his filthy clothes into civvies, they discussed the helijet problem, while Scott's brothers continued talking to the local team.

"I'll call our engineer, he might know what went wrong." Scott did so, and was soon speaking to the blue-spectacled man back on Tracy Island. Scott explained the problem and brains scratched his chin pensively,

"I-it sounds to me l-like it's an er, LQ-1 Howe-Slites helijet. They are er, well-known for their d-delicate hardware."

"But do you know if we can fix it, Brains?"

"Uh, m-maybe Scott. You need to look in the f-forward hatch under the n-nose. F-from the sound of it, it's the a-automatic control board that's at f-fault. In an e-electrical storm, the, er, wiring has been known to fuse. I-if you can see the d-damage and it is r-repairable, it's o-obvious what to do. I-if, as I suspect, it's a-a mess, it will have to be f-flown on m-manual."

"Okay, thanks Brains. I'll take a look." Scott called off and held out Ned's warmed, dried coat to him.

"Come on, let's get down to the helijet. I'll look at it, but it sounds like it'll just have to go home on manual. How good a pilot is Bob?"

"I don't think he's the best. I mean, he knows how to get us about, but he's not trained for anything extra."

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's find out if it can be fixed."

They slipped and slid down to the helijet and Scott prised open the inspection hatch under the nose of the machine. Inside was a muddle of twisted, melted wires. He put the hatch door back in place and sucked his lip.

"Looks like that board's out of it. Let's go and talk to Bob." They went inside and found Bob dozing in the pilot's chair. He jerked awake as Ned tapped him on the shoulder, and Scott explained the situation.

"…so the question is, can you fly this thing without the automatic system?" Bob looked nervous,

"I don't think so. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Right. In that case, I'm going to have to fly you back. Where does this thing have to go to for repair?"

Bob told him and Scott called Virgil on his watch.

"Go ahead Scott."

"I'm ready to go now, but the helijet automatic flying controls are out of action. Ned and Bob have got to get it back to have it repaired, but Bob doesn't have the experience to pilot it. If I pilot this thing, who can fly Thunderbird One back to base?" John's face appeared, squashed up next to Virgil's,

"Not me Scott, count me out. I'm too jumpy with her."

"Right, it'll have to be Gordon then. Will you tell Father what's going on? I need to get going. I'll give him a call when we get in and maybe someone can pick me up in the jet."

"Sure Scott. I'll tell Gordon to fly carefully!"

"He'd better," Scott said, very little in jest, and swapped places with Bob for the Pilot's chair. Bob took the co-pilot's seat next to him and asked tentatively,

"I'd sure like to see how you do it. D'you mind if I watch?"

"No, not at all. I'll explain as I go along. It's pretty straightforward to understand what you've got to do, it's just doing it's a bit of a problem. I trained on something similar to this in the air-force before they'd really sorted out the automation, so I'm not too bad.

"You're only doing what the automatic system does, but instead of it working out all the individual bits and just letting you say 'I want to go forward', you have to handle all the propulsion jets individually from the manual panel." Scott looked down by the side of the collective and found the control he was looking for. He unhooked the safety cover and flicked the switch.

"That changes the control panel to manual drive. The collective is disengaged because that runs solely to the automatic exchange boards. You're using the secondary functions on this set of controls here," Scott indicated a row of buttons across the length of the panel, "and, if I'm remembering correctly…yep, this set of sliders that you probably didn't even know was here." He hooked his finger round the end of the blank surface below the buttons and revealed the sliders, each in line with a button.

"That's it. All the controls you get."

"I always wondered what the other labels on those things were," said Bob, in wonder. Scott grinned.

"Well, now you know. Each one is marked for one of the jets. You've got a forejet on your nose, an aftjet under your tail, two multi-directionals on your stabiliser fins, two propulsion jets on your tail and a couple of yaw jets just behind the cockpit. There are also the hover fans, but I'd ignore them if you're trying to fly manual. It's hard enough without. So you just have to think what you're actually doing each time you would have just pulled on the collective." He looked round, "Strapped in, Ned?" Ned nodded and Scott put his hands on the controls.

"Okay. Take-off. Take it in stages. First you've got to get off the ground, so make sure the multi-directionals are pointing straight down and your slides are at zero…" He flicked two little joy-sticks, one at each end of the control range and pushed all the sliders up towards the windshield, "then you want to fire all four under-cart jets at once. Go gently, push the buttons for the four of them, those are just two-way switches, so they're on or off. Then put your fingers on all the sliders, and pull them down as slowly as you can, keeping them all level, otherwise you'll tip over. There's a rough marker for 'airborne', just there, so somewhere past that we should have taken off." The helijet lurched slightly and then left the ground, hovering about a foot off. Scott increased the jets' power until they were well up in the air.

"Now you get buffeting from the wind. Usually the helijet automatically stabilises you round the gyro with bursts from the directionals, but we haven't got that luxury now, so keep an eye on the gyro and the feel of the craft. If you're starting to veer of course, or pitch or roll too much, bring her back with a burst. You're probably better off using the pitch and yaw jets and touches extra or less on the fore and aft jets, than the directionals, because they're really hard to control. Now we're well up, I'm going to turn them off." He pressed their two buttons again and added power to the fore and aft jets using their sliders in order to compensate. "So I'll put the pitch and yaw jets on standby and power up the propulsion jets." He did, and they started to move forwards, Scott constantly adjusting the power levels to the other jets to keep them stable and change direction. His concentration levels were intense, but he still managed to keep up a running commentary for Bob.

When they eventually reached the airfield which was base to the helijet, Scott sat back, sighing gratefully as the legs touched down gently on the tarmac.

"Whew, that was some flying, bud," Bob said, appreciatively, having watched Scott's dextrous manipulation of the many controls throughout the flight.

"Thanks. Could you go and check in here and explain what's happened. I'd be grateful though if you could not tell them that I'm from International Rescue. If I have to show them my documentation for flying this thing, I don't want my details linked up."

"Sure thing, sir," said Bob, and exited the craft, still shaking his head in wonder. A few minutes later a man in a grey suit arrived, checked Scott's documentation, and left again, declaring himself satisfied. Bob had gone and Scott and Ned were alone in the craft.

Scott quickly called base and saw his father's face appear in front of him,

"Go ahead, Scott."

"I've landed the helijet, Father. I could come back now if you send the jet. But I was wondering…" His father cut him off,

"You'd like to take that leave while you're away? Your brothers have been on at me to let you ever since they got back. I don't know what you've bribed them with, but I think I'd rather take the risk than bear another week of their moaning. I guess I was a little harsh on you the other week. You can stay overnight there if you really want to, though I can't see what you want to do there. I hold to my word though, you can't have proper leave while Alan's away. I'll send Tin-Tin out for you tomorrow mid-morning. Will that hold you for a bit?" Scott felt like bursting with surprise and joy, but answered his father as normally as ever,

"That sure does sound great Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"Hmm," said his Father, "Just be back at the airfield tomorrow at eleven. See you tomorrow Son." He called off.

Ned looked at Scott, having hardly spoken a word for the entire journey.

"I have a company suite here. What say we go and dump our stuff, then go and get some dinner, on the company?" Scott grinned,

"I knew I loved you for a reason! Can I just have twenty minutes for a shower and a nap, then I'll be ready for anything."

"Sure. I've got a report to fill out anyway, then I think I might take a shower too. I don't know how you stay so alert though. Ten minutes for a nap? I'd need a week with what you've done today."

"I told you, last time was unusual. I'd had practically no sleep the night before, then a rescue much more exhausting than this one, then a surprise re-boot to come and get you. Normally I can go on very little sleep."


	7. Tin-Tin's Advice

Scott woke the next morning feeling refreshed and contented. He looked at his watch, eight o' clock. His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, he hadn't slept that long for years. His movements woke Ned who rolled over to look at him blearily.

"Time's i'?"

"Eight hundred hours." Ned blinked a couple of times,

"Boy, my mouth tastes bad. D'you want some breakfast?" Scott nodded,

"What is there?" Ned sat up and stretched, scratching his back,

"Porridge, or porridge. It's all that's kept in stock. But if you don't fancy that, there's a diner down off the lobby that does breakfasts."

"Porridge is fine. Want a hand?"

"Mmph," was all Scott got in return, so he hauled himself out of bed, swayed unsteadily, went to the bathroom and stuck his head under the cold tap. Wide awake now, he made his way to the tiny kitchenette off the lounge and pointlessly moved bowls around while Ned made porridge. They sat in the lounge to eat and Ned spoke between mouthfuls, his besocked feet resting on Scott's knees,

"Eleven o'clock you're being picked up right?"

"Yeah. Tin-Tin's coming over in the jet."

"You have a private jet?"

"Mmm, little red beauty called Ladybird. Well we are kinda out-of-the-way. We couldn't go anywhere if we didn't. Good porridge by the way."

"There's more in the pot if you want, it'll be congealing though. Can I come with you to see you off?"

"Sure. Knowing Tin-Tin she'll be angling to meet you anyway."

"She can fly then?"

"She can do pretty much anything. Dad has phases when he lets her out on rescues – she's great with the electronics and anything technical – but then he has times when he gets scared for her and won't let her go. Drives her crazy. She tends to go shopping more when that happens. A new wardrobe every six months or so. Shops like you wouldn't believe, and then still goes ahead and makes most of her own clothes. I shouldn't complain though; she makes most of my clothes too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Does the uniforms too with Grandma and Brains. She's a gem really." Scott heaved Ned's feet off his legs and went back to the kitchen to scrape out the gungey porridge that was left.

At ten-thirty, they made their way to the air-field and sat in the lounge area, waiting. At three minutes past eleven, Tin-Tin strolled into the lounge, heads turning at her tight flight-suit and immaculate turn-out. She made her way over to Scott and Ned and held out her hand to Ned,

"Hello, you must be Mr Cook." Ned took her hand, swallowing nervously,

"Please call me Ned." Tin-Tin smiled,

"Tin-Tin. Hello Scott, did you have a good time?"

"Just great, Tin-Tin." He picked up his tiny bag and stood up. "I guess we'd better get going. Dad's probably keeping an eye on the time.

"He did say something about it when I left, yes. Scott, will you go and get us a runway cleared. I'll be ten seconds." 

Scott bit his lip, and squeezed Ned's proffered hand fondly. "I'll be in touch as soon as I can." He turned quickly and walked out towards the waiting jet.

Tin-Tin smiled at Ned,

"I can see why you're attracted to each other. You're total opposites on the surface, but you're exactly the same underneath. Both passionate about your work and both completely different when you're off duty to when you're on duty. Except maybe Scott feels he's on duty more of the time. Look, I just wanted to reassure you. Be patient with Scott, he's as bad as his father, he'd sacrifice everything to maintain the secrecy of our organisation and he sees possible security breaches everywhere. He won't fight for you to come to the base because he doesn't have the conviction that it's the right thing, but it doesn't mean he doesn't want you there. You've completely shaken him emotionally and I've never seen him like that before, so don't think he's not thinking of you. I'll badger him a bit for you. I might even badger his father, if Scott gets round to telling him about you. Take care Ned." She kissed him on the cheek and was off, sprinting towards the jet before Ned could say a word.

In the cockpit Scott had taken the controls. He had put on his shades from the compartment at his side and as Tin-Tin got in and the hood closed over them, he taxied them forward to their assigned runway, waited for clearance, and took off, bound for home.


	8. Red Paint and Pecan Pie

Scott hummed loudly and persistently all the way home, while Tin-Tin sat next to him, smirking slightly to herself and deciding to let him have the time he obviously wanted for his own thoughts. As he brought the jet round for the final approach, Scott spoke at last.

"Was Gordon staying in this morning?"

"I think so. He was fixing his diving mask on the kitchen table when I left. Going to grill him about his flight home last night?" Scott shot a glance at Tin-Tin and saw the amused look on her face. He looked back at the controls as his hand reached for the comms,

"I just like to check. He hasn't flown her for ages. He might have…questions." Tin-Tin didn't look convinced. Scott called his father,

"Ladybird to Tracy Island, permission to land please."

"Permission granted, welcome home Scott." The jet touched down and rolled to a halt before the great cliff face. The small hangar door opened and Scott taxied them inside. Tin-Tin pressed the hood-release and ushered Scott out of the pilot's seat,

"You go and sort yourself out. I'll put her away." Scott leapt to the ground with his bag,

"Thanks Tin-Tin."

Scott arrived in the lounge to the smell of solvents. His father was sat at his desk, his nose wrinkling slightly, doing some paperwork. Scott went over and sat on the edge of the desk. Jeff looked up,

"Hi Scott. Did you have a good time last night?"

"Yeah, thanks Dad. What's the smell?"

"Gordon is trying to fix the seal back on his diving mask with adhesive. Why he has to do it up here I don't know. His Grandmother's going to have a fit when she smells that in her kitchen…I'd stay out of it if I were you Son." Jeff and Scott exchanged a knowing look. They both knew to their cost what Jeff's mother in a temper meant. Scott smiled,

"I might go and warn him. I want to ask him about his flight back anyway. Was he alright?"

"He was fine. Got her in okay. I'm not sure he shouldn't do a little more training in her, iron out the wrinkles just in case…" Jeff saw Scott turn pale and laughed,

"I guess you're not so keen on the idea. Well, you've got to let her go sometimes Scott. But I know how you feel."

"Did Gordon fly her better than Alan?" Jeff let out a nervous breath,

"Aah…no. He's not really a pilot at heart. But he's probably better than John…at least he doesn't panic so much. No damage done though. Just an interesting approach pattern." Jeff hurried on as Scott's eyebrows hit the roof and he sprung off the desk, "I talked him back on track. There was just a moment when I thought he was going to land in the pool…I wasn't ready for him coming in on that bearing and he wasn't opening it himself, I thought he'd take a swing round. I had to send him off on another circuit…so if you find scorch marks on your sun lounger, that's why."

"If I did that you'd hit the roof," Scott stated, matter-of-factly,

"If you grounded Thunderbird Four on your way home, I'd laugh. Provided you were in her legitimately. I keep meaning to give you boys more time to train in each others' crafts, but I know how protective you are of your own. You know enough to get them home. That's what really matters. Don't go bawling Gordon out."

"I won't." Scott went to the kitchen and found Gordon sat at the table with his hands in the air as if he were meditating, a bit of mask pinched between his fingers.

"How's it going Gordon?""

"It keeps popping open," moaned Gordon, "I've been trying since before Tin-Tin left. I just don't have the patience. You don't want to hold it do you?"

"No. You, uh, got Thunderbird One in alright then?"

"Yeah." Gordon glanced at Scott, saw his raised eyebrows and winced,

"Okay. It was a little…wobbly. But I haven't been in her for over a year. I didn't hit anything. Not a scratch on her, I swear."

"You know she's not meant to land in water…" Gordon laughed,

"Dad thought I was going to land in the pool. Like I would…" he said, but he didn't sound as confident as a second before. Scott got up,

"That really stinks Gordo. I'd clear out of the kitchen before Grandma gets to find out."

"How come you got leave last night?"

"I don't know. Virg and John asked for me I think. I guess they thought I needed it. Must have caught Dad at a good moment."

Scott left the kitchen and made his way to Thunderbird One's hangar. Leaning on the inspection rail, he looked her up and down. She didn't look damaged anywhere, but he'd want to look in the sheathes around her wings when he could get someone to come with him; the ice caking she'd had in there could certainly have done some damage. Scott heard footsteps behind him and looked round. Virgil was walking towards him, carrying two cups of coffee, a paper bag between his teeth. Scott took the bag and a cup and Virgil grinned,

"Thought I'd find you here. Brought a few slices of Grandma's pecan pie. There's fireworks in the kitchen right now."

"Gordon's gluing?" Virgil nodded, "Well, I did warn him."

"Brains said to tell you he's checked out Thunderbird One's body and there's a crack in your starboard wing hinge. It's not too serious, he's going to get in there with Tin-Tin later today and try to fix it. He said you can lend a hand if you want, but you're probably too big to get in there anyway. Must have been struggling too hard against the ice."

"She's usually okay with ice. The altitude often freezes her up a bit. I guess it was too cold to melt when I brought her down. Thanks for getting leave for me by the way. How did you do it?"

"John and I had a chat on the way back, since Gordon wasn't there. We decided to pester Dad for you a bit. You…I couldn't let that opportunity pass. John didn't fancy you moping around either."

"I have not moped! Not once." Scott drummed his fingers on the side of his cup and took a deep breath,

"Did you…had John told you about Ned and me before?" Virgil leant on the rail next to him,

"No. He didn't say a word. Alan and Gordon still don't know. I think." Scott half-smiled,

"You didn't look surprised. I thought…"

"I'm not surprised at all. Why should I be? I'm the one who saw you in that car with that man."

"Yeah. I guess. But even I didn't know. I wasn't sure about Ned. I didn't like him before. Miss him like mad now. You don't mind?" Virgil put his arm round his brother and gave him a quick squeeze,

"Nope. You know, I had a chat with him when I was flying him back to his base. Like I said, he seemed like quite an okay sort of guy when he wasn't after a story. If you like him, that's great. It's about time you got serious with someone."

"Thus spake my younger brother." Said Scott, turning his cup round and round. "I'm not sure what I'd have thought if it was you or John. It's not something I ever really thought about. I can't really get used to the idea."

"What difference does it make? We haven't blabbed because you weren't telling, it wouldn't be fair. I guess Alan and Gordon might tease you a bit, but it doesn't change anything. I don't see the problem."

"What about Dad?"

"Um…I don't know. I'd be surprised if it really bothered him. It's more the fact that you're going out with anyone, or that it's Ned Cook that's going to bother him."

"See, I don't even know if it's worth telling him. Do I even try to keep this going?"

"What? Scott, John told me what's been going on, on our way back yesterday. If you, well, if you love him as much as it sounds you do…"

"I've only seen him twice."

"Hell Scott, you've seen him every night in your dreams and half the day when we haven't been able to get a response out of you. I'm not stupid. Artist, remember? I just don't believe that something that makes you look that much happier when he's around isn't real."

"What?"

"The look on your face. You weren't even really happy, the situation was too bad, but you kinda relaxed. He's sure, anyway. Why wouldn't you want to carry on?"

"What do I do Virgil? I'm a member of International Rescue. I hear a call for help and it puts everything else out of my head. Heck, I hear about some project going on somewhere and even if it sounds really exciting and interesting, part of my brain is already looking for potential disasters, it's who I am. So along comes Ned and it throws me. I wasn't thinking straight half the time I rescued him from that ruin. It was dangerous. If I do carry on with him, I'm putting him through hell every time I'm on a rescue, and I'm aware of that, because he's not one of us; he's not on the calculated risk ticket with you and the others. And apart from that, I can't bring him back to the island because of the security risk, so I only get to see him a few times a year. I can't live like that." Virgil shook his head,

"Well, for starters, I think you've conquered the first one. You went yesterday as Scott Tracy, pilot of Thunderbird One. You weren't distracted when you left, or if you were, it was a great cover-up you did. Then you met Ned there and it was a surprise. Did that throw you? I'd say it didn't. You handled him like you would anyone. You didn't compromise anyone's safety, you didn't lose control of the situation, you just got on with the job. I didn't have a clue that there was anything extra going on with him and you until you kissed him. If you were screwed up inside, it didn't affect your work, and that's what matters. Apart from that, he's a risk-taker too, he admits it. Okay, so it's not the same thing, but he's still used to the idea."

"There's still the security risk."

"Maybe this is the time to risk it." Scott looked at Virgil with faint scorn, Virgil looked straight back, brown eyes meeting blue. Scott took a deep breath,

"Okay, I trust him. But, I. Don't. Know. Why." He pointed each word, still staring Virgil in the eye. "I've known him a few weeks, during which time my entire perception of him has changed, but I didn't get a choice in the matter, it was an accident. I…"

"An accident?" Virgil butted in,

"It was…strange. Normally I'd never have let him get close enough to change my mind. I was so tired that day, I mean really exhausted, I shouldn't have been there if there was a choice. We were stuck in that hole and Ned just… Well he'd obviously been, thinking about me, I guess, for a while, and he just grabbed me and kissed me. What do you do? I was too tired to argue, too tired even to really think about what he'd done. So I let him carry on. I, I enjoyed it. He's, um, good at what he does. So then he asked how he could see me again and gave me his number and I promised to call. I know how that can work, but I do not break my promises. Then, when I got home, I… I guess I worked out I was in love with him."

"Or Tin-Tin did."

"Alright. Tin-Tin did. It doesn't matter anyway. The point is that he was in love with me way before I was with him, and it was an accident that I fell for him at all. I still don't know whether it's real or it's just… Desperation."

"Are you desperate? You never look it Scott."

"I didn't think I was. But you don't know do you? You suddenly get something you didn't know you wanted and all of a sudden it's as if it is what was missing. I've never even felt the need to go on a proper date with the girls I meet when I'm on leave. Nor the guys for that matter."

"So you weren't in love before. It changes things."

"It doesn't change the fact that I'm suddenly in a position where I need to assess someone I've only known a short time in terms of their security risk, and all the boxes I'd usually tick come out marked black. He's a new face, he's known to behave irrationally, he'll do anything for a story, he's tried to film us before, he's only known by someone whose judgement is seriously skewed… How could I pass him? How could I possibly ask Dad to pass him?"

"Because if you keep on at him for long enough, Dad will go with your judgement. He trusts you on rescues, and if he still sometimes treats us all like kids at home, he recognises your ability when it matters. Work out what sort of threat Ned poses, then you can work out the arguments you need, for yourself as much as Dad. Otherwise John's right, you'll end up a sour old bachelor, wondering why you never took your chance. Dad wouldn't want that, he loved Mom too much to deny any of us that particular happiness."

"You're a fine one to talk. Where's the line of girlfriends? And don't tell me you haven't been asked, I've been there with you."

"Okay Scott, I admit it. I've never found the right girl, yet. But if I did…"

"She probably wouldn't be a ferocious news reporter with a chequered past and a bad reputation with Dad. And she wouldn't be a man. And you'd probably have had time to think it over before you got in so deep."

"Sure. I know there are problems. Just don't think they're insuperable. If you want my opinion, I'd tell Dad as soon as you can summon up the courage. Get him thinking about it. But make sure you tell him all the good stuff, like how he's changed and what he's done and said recently. Don't just tell him all your doubts and worries, I know you." Scott smiled wryly. Virgil took his cup from him and smiled,

"See you later Scott." He started to walk away, Scott stopped him,

"Hey!" Virgil turned,

"What?" Scott looked pointedly at the paper bag Virgil had picked up to take with him. Virgil sighed dramatically,

"And I was hoping to get a couple more slices for myself for once!" Scott cuffed him gently and took the bag, peering inside,

"Only two left?" Virgil coughed meaningfully and walked away. After all, he had only had one and a half.

As Virgil's footsteps died away, Scott went round and extended the walkway to Thunderbird One's cockpit. Stepping inside, he closed the door and checked that all her systems were off. Standing on the rear bulkhead of the cockpit, the pilot's seat came to midway up Scott's chest. He rested his folded arms on it and let out a great moaning cry of frustration. As the sound echoed round the tiny, enclosed space, he raised his head and took a deep breath. He felt better for that, but Virgil's suggestion filled him with dread: why should he complicate things by telling Dad? If he did tell him, Gordon and Alan would be sure to find out. He wouldn't get a moment's peace. He had a book to finish, he was in the middle of a strategy game with Brains, he'd have to repaint his Thunderbird's nose-cone which was a little scarified by the hard, icy snow. Wouldn't it be a lot easier to do these things free from extra, unnecessary worries? But the idea was there now. Virgil was right. He'd have to tell his father sometime. He was almost bursting from pretending he was fine while the others were around. Having a good yell had helped a little, but it was building again. A lump at the back of his throat was getting more insistent…

Never. He would never cry over it. Never in private, never in public. But he was getting damn close and if he didn't do something about it… Scott took another couple of deep breaths. Ned's face, Ned's voice were going round and round in his head again and that aching feeling of missing was back. It felt like when his mother had died. That ancient, unstoppable feeling of loss, of needing, of incessant feeling. He thumped his hand on the seat,

"Help me!" he shouted. Then the silence returned.

Scott opened the cockpit door and stepped out. On the lower gantry, Brains had arrived and was pushing a trolley of equipment in front of him. Scott went down to him and they looked over at Thunderbird One,

"H-hi Scott. I believe V-Virgil told you my findings."

"Yeah Brains. You reckon you can fix it?"

"W-well, I'll certainly t-try Scott. T-Tin-Tin is going to take in one of my s-special w-welders. I think it ought to uh, do the j-job. She's the only one s-small enough, it's a t-tight squeeze if we don't want to take the whole s-side off."

"Okay Brains, well call me if you need any help. I thought I'd touch up her nose cone while she's out of action. I guess Alan's created enough dregs by now." There was a slight moan in his voice, and Brains laughed,

"You know, it's m-much less w-wasteful. A-Alan gets b-bored at the e-end of a c-canister. You g-get a good finish, so why open a whole n-new tub which will g-go off?" Scott raised his eyes ceilingwards and nodded. He ran down the gantry steps to the storage area of the hangar, pulled out his painting overalls and went across to the paint store. As he pulled on the overalls, he looked at the big plastic container that held all Alan's dregs from the canisters he'd last used to paint Thunderbird Three. It was about three-quarters full. Scott hauled it out of the store and placed a filter over the mouth of a spray-gun reservoir. Tilting the paint pot up and resting it on his leg, he watched as a thin stream of red paint made its way through the filter, occasionally leaving behind a glob of rubbery, dried paint. He heard a sound above him, looked up, saw nothing, looked back down and cursed as the action tilted the pot a little too much and a great gush of red covered his hand. Wrinkling his nose, he stood the pot up on the floor, wiped his hand on his overall leg, wiped the outside of the spray-gun, and wiped his hand once more on the other leg. He put the large pot back in the store and climbed up to the top gantry again with the spray-gun.

Brains had disappeared into Thunderbird One's service hatch, and it sounded like Tin-Tin had gone in with him. Scott climbed the ladder up to the cherry-picker arm that jutted from the top of the hangar wall. Harnessing himself in, he attached the spray-gun to the pressure hose and operated the controls that swung him out towards the bright red nose of Thunderbird One.

Close to, the paint damage looked worse, but Scott was glad, at least he'd be able to see where he'd been. The paint on his hand was claggy and stiff now. He'd never be able to wash it off later. Deciding it was too late to put on the hot, uncomfortable gloves he usually wore for this job, he pulled on a pair of goggles and started to paint.

It was slow work, the leftover paint was less keen on being blasted out of a nozzle than it was when it was fresh. Little bits that had somehow got through the filter got jammed from time to time, making the nozzle spurt and splatter, and Scott had to speedily clear the blockage and re-spray the area before it dried. However, it was satisfying, seeing the cone slowly become glossy and smooth once more and Scott felt himself calming down as he worked his way round, top to bottom, round, top to bottom, check the join, round, top to bottom…

At last, job done, Scott made his way back down to the store, put the spray-gun in the centrifugal cleaner and climbed back up to the service hatch. He entered and climbed the ladder towards the wing-hinges. Squeezing past fuel tanks and rocket housings, he found himself face to face with Brains, holding a welding mask to the side of his face where he had an earpiece and mic, and reading instructions to Tin-Tin from the data on the electronic scanner in his lap. Scott waited until Brains paused and brought the welding mask down,

"How's it going Brains?"

"Uh, kinda slowly Scott. The e-equipment is definitely w-working, but it t-takes time. Tin-Tin can't er, keep going for too l-long at a stretch, b-but we'll do it."

"Thanks Brains. Tell Tin-Tin she's doing a great job. I'm off to get cleaned up. See you later."

Scott went back to the villa, picking at the gloss paint, now completely dried on his hands. Taking off the overalls, he got in the shower, scrubbed his hair and body and tried to get at least some of the worst off his hands. The difference was barely noticeable as he pulled his fresh clothes on, ten minutes later; the only good point seeming to be that the paint did at least match the red panel on his sweater.

Scott grabbed his book and walked to the lounge. There was no sound from the kitchen, apparently that argument was over or had gone elsewhere. Gordon, John and Virgil were nowhere to be seen, probably down by the pool, but Jeff was still at his desk, dictating notes into a recorder. He looked up as Scott came in.

"What have you done to your hands Scott?"

"I was painting Thunderbird's nose cone. Had a little accident." Jeff chuckled,

"We do run to gloves here Scott." Scott smiled at his father, his stomach lurching; if he was going to follow Virgil's advice, he should do it now, while Jeff was so obviously relaxed and in a good mood and not busy with other things on his mind. Jeff was looking at his eldest son appraisingly,

"You're looking mighty nervous Son. What's the matter? Something happen yesterday?"

"No. No, I just… Dad, have you got time to hear me out on something?" Jeff looked more serious,

"Sure Son, what is it?" Scott brought his hand up to rub his jaw, spotted the paint and hastily put it down again. He stood in front of his father's desk, playing with the edge of the wood.

"Sit down Scott," said Jeff, and pointed to the chair at the corner of the desk. Scott sat. "Go ahead," his father said patiently. Scott took a breath and started,

"I've got a problem I can't deal with, but I need to give you all the details before you form an opinion, because I had to have all the details before I came to the opinion I did, and I don't think you're going to be very happy with how it starts. I wouldn't be." Jeff waved his hand for Scott to continue. Scott picked up a pen and started to twiddle it.

"I guess the main thing is that I've, I've… fallen in love. That's the base of the problem." Jeff's eyebrows raised, but he remained silent. He knew Scott must be serious, he was never on edge like this, even on a dangerous rescue, something must really be causing him problems.

"I guess I've realised that I can't continue only seeing them when I've got leave, it's not enough, it's driving me crazy. So I'd love for them to be able to come here. But that's where it gets bad. I've only known them properly for a short while and I can't justify the security risk to myself, so…" Scott stopped, he was doing exactly what Virgil had told him not to. Be positive, that was the key.

"I trust them. I don't really know why, but I'd trust them with my life and I just know they'd never do anything to damage us now." (Better, better.) Jeff was looking stern again,

"What do you mean 'now'? Have they in the past? Do I know her? I can't recall anything a woman ever…" Scott interrupted,

"No Dad. I mean, yes, they tried, but it's… it's not…" Scott was breathing heavily now, his red hands were drumming the pen on the desk and that lump was back in his throat. He swallowed hard and flattened his hands on the desk. Control, control, that was what he needed. This was an assignment, it was easy, he wasn't risking his life here, he was trying to make it better. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply again and thought 'calm'.

"It's Ned Cook," he said, softly.

"What is?" asked Jeff, baffled.

"That I'm in love with. Ned Cook, the reporter who risks his life too much, too often, who tried to film us leaving the scene of a rescue and wouldn't stop, even though he scared his cameraman half to death, driving off when I chased him, who will do anything, almost, for a story. I'm in love with him, and I don't know if it's clouded my judgement, but I truly trust him now. He's talked things over with me. He knows now how important secrecy is for us and he respects us too much to abuse his position. He saved a little boy on that rescue yesterday. He risked his life to come in and help me when John and Virgil couldn't. I trust him. But I won't blame you if you can't. I know I wouldn't in your position. Why should you?" Jeff looked down at his desk, his chin in his hand, and picked at the corner of his blotter. Then he sat back and looked at his eldest son who was now watching him, his eyes fixed on his father, as if willing himself to keep looking against his better judgement.

"Ned Cook is, a man," Jeff said, rather unhelpfully. Scott nodded, his expression fixed. Jeff was silent for a while, his clasped hands hiding his mouth, then he spoke, his tone uncertain,

"Scott, you've given me two pieces of information here that I find hard to square with My Boy Scott. Oh, it doesn't…matter, I guess, that he's a man, but I have to get used to the idea before I can deal with the other bit that I really don't like. Can you leave me with that Scott, we'll talk again when I've been through the first bit with myself. I might bawl you out if you stay here now, and I don't want to do that." Scott got up slightly unsteadily,

"Sure, Father," he said, and went to leave.

"Good man," his father said as he left, and Scott felt relief flood him. Those words would do for now.


	9. Searching for Still Waters

Jeff sat at his desk, staring at the wall opposite, where the portraits of his five sons, looking strong and brave in their uniforms, were ranged. There was Scott, his eldest, the reliable one, the one he could always talk things through with. The one who understood best what it meant to be in charge of the International Rescue organisation…

Jeff looked down at his desk again, twiddling his thumbs. What was the right reaction to this? It wasn't like a rescue where he could see what needed doing and get to work on doing it. The worst kind of rescues for him were always the ones where he wasn't sure what to do, where the outcome was uncertain. When that happened, he trusted his boys to make on-the-spot decisions, to solve the problems on the ground. He trusted Scott to know what to do. Now he was on his own. Years of astronaut training, business and enterprise weren't going to help him now.

Jeff got up and started to pace. He tried to think it through logically. What did he actually feel? Right. He had two things to deal with. First, it looked like his eldest son was…well, gay. Second…oh hell, he couldn't get to second before he'd dealt with the first one. Did he mind? Really deep down, did he mind? Jeff thought and thought. After thirty or so laps of the room he figured out that he really didn't know. He felt…unbalanced, like he'd been punched in the head, but he didn't have any reason to back up what he was feeling. He'd never had an opinion on the subject. There had been men like that around at times during his training days, but they hadn't bothered him, they'd been colleagues, that was all. So maybe he really didn't mind. But this was his son. And he'd never even considered that this might happen. He sat at his desk once more and rested his head on his folded arms. He'd have to figure this out. He wasn't comfortable with the idea and he couldn't think…

Of course! Jeff got up and walked quickly to his private room. Locking the door, he sat in an armchair and flicked a switch. Five seconds later, a picture on the wall switched to a moving image of an attractive woman in a pink twin-set and pearls, who spoke,

"Jeff. How marvellous to see you. Is this business or pleasure?"

"Hi Penny. Well, it's not business, but I wouldn't exactly call it pleasure. I've got a, er, rather personal problem I'd like your advice on. Are you alone?"

"Yes Jeff. What is it?" Jeff thought for a moment, he wanted to find out if he was just being blind not to have realised…

"One of my boys just told me that they're…in love with a man."

Silence.

"What do I do Penny? I don't know what to think."

"Who Jeff?" Jeff blinked; so it hadn't been blindingly obvious then.

"Who would you guess Penny? I'd like to know if it's just me."

"I…Gracious Jeff, I've never considered that any of them would be… Perhaps I don't know John as well as the other boys…"

"It's not John."

"Well, I don't know, Jeff. Tell me, then maybe I can help." Jeff sighed. Lady Penelope looked concerned as he spoke,

"It's Scott."

Silence. Again. Then,

"Well Jeff, I don't think there's anything you can do, but accept it. He's certainly old enough to make choices like that for himself."

"Would you have guessed?" A pause.

"I wouldn't. No. On the other hand, it can be hard to tell with your boys Jeff. You've brought them up wonderfully, but they've paid a price for being your dream. You have never really let them off the leash, have you? I've heard them talk about their lives in International Rescue, we all feel the same don't we, that it's just too dangerous a life to ask someone to share it with you. Otherwise…well, I'm sure you'd have girls queuing back to the mainland to go out with them, they're fine men. That's what would worry me more in your position, the fact that Scott may have lost sight of the fact of his job."

"No Penny, he hasn't. I guess that's part of what worries me. He seemed so…on edge. I'm not sure he really wants this. By his own admission, his judgement has been impaired by the fact that he's fallen in love. I'm no judge of people's feelings, but I'd say he's as confused as I am."

"Ah, the perils of falling in love. Well, if you want my advice Jeff, I'd suggest that you make everything as easy as you can for him. What did you say to him when he told you?"

"I told him I'd talk to him when I'd thought things through. Then I couldn't make up my mind what I thought, so I came and called you."

"Well I'm glad you did, we don't want you putting your foot in it. How do you feel about him now?"

"I don't know Penny. I…I've never had to think about it before. I don't really want to."

"You have no choice. You still love him of course."

"Well of course I do. What sort of a father would I be if I didn't? He hasn't changed outwardly, if he hadn't told me I wouldn't have guessed."

"Then I think you need to consider why you should feel any negative emotions about it. You won't get any grandchildren out of him if it's true, but you have four other sons for that, if you ever let them try."

"Penny, I'm not stopping them, they just know that…"

"I know Jeff, but you know you can be a very persuasive father at times. I think it must have taken an enormous amount of courage for Scott to tell you he'd fallen in love, let alone with whom. Do you know him by the way?"

"Yes Penny. That's problem number two, I was coming to that. You think I should just accept what Scott is?"

"I think it shouldn't make the slightest difference to you. I also think you should make it clear that it is not an issue. If he ever changed his mind, which seems to me pretty unlikely at thirty years old, you don't want to make that as hard as this has been. If you had no deep-seated objection to the idea before, then there's no point developing an extreme set of moral standards now. Now tell me who it is."

"A guy called Ned Cook. Have I told you about him?" Lady Penelope looked up and left, trying to remember,

"Isn't he some sort of television reporter? Let me think…You went to see his show once. He was the one you rescued when the Empire State Building collapsed."

"Spot-on Penny. Reporter with NTBS. I'd had him marked down as a trouble-maker. He tried to film Scott taking off in Thunderbird One once. He has no concept of the danger he places himself and others in, in his attempts to get a story. I'm surprised Scott even looked at him. He runs contrary to everything I know Scott believes in. He was very gracious on his show after we'd rescued him. But then a few weeks ago, he was in trouble again, his own fault again, and we had to go and rescue him again."

"When did Scott start seeing him?"

"I don't know. He can't have had that much time with him, but he says he's talked a lot of things over with him. I'm pretty sure it wasn't going on during the first rescue. Scott was pretty hard with some of the things he said then, I remember. But then there was this second rescue. Scott was behaving a little strangely after that, I guess, but I thought it was just because he was so exhausted. That was a bad day, they had a tough rescue first thing, then straight back out to get Ned Cook. He's been asking for leave since then, which is odd, because he never usually asks when Alan's in the space station, he knows I won't let him go. I gave him leave last night. He must have stayed with Ned, I guess, or near him anyway. He flew Ned's helijet back to its base on manual for him. So I suppose it's been since that second rescue. I still can't understand how it happened though."

"He must be absolutely certain Jeff, or he'd never have told you so soon. Can you imagine what it cost him to tell you?"

"Hmm. It does seem pretty sudden. Now he'd like Ned to be able to come to the base so that he can spend more time with him. He says he trusts him, but he doesn't expect me to. He actually said that he wouldn't blame me if I said no, because he would in my position. What am I supposed to do? I can't say yes. But I feel bad because he's so… so understanding. I feel like I've brought up a martyr. It makes me feel terrible." Jeff leaned on the arm of his chair, wishing he had Penelope's cool confidence in himself.

"He is his father's son, Jeff. I know Scott's views. He will not compromise International Rescue. Now he's come up against something that strikes at that, at the very core of his being. If his feelings are as strong as they seem to be, that's a terrific conflict of interest. You would be exactly the same in Scott's position. He knows what he wants and his conscience won't let him have it. It must be a struggle he's losing or he wouldn't ever have told you."

"So what do I do?"

"Have you ever met Ned?"

"No. We were at his show incognito."

"Which of the boys have met him?"

"Gordon rescued him in New York. Scott, obviously, and Virgil told me that he talked to him in Thunderbird Two while he was taking him to safety the second time. Though really he shouldn't have been in the cabin at all. Oh, then of course he was at the rescue zone yesterday. John was there and I think he mentioned speaking to him. So only Ala…no, Alan met him at the second rescue too. Yes, they've all spoken to him. Talk about security."

"Do they know about him and Scott?"

"I really don't know, Penny." Jeff sighed and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands,

"Why not find out? Get Scott to tell you if he knows, don't ask them, you'll only make things awkward. If they do, it might be worth asking what they think of Ned, they might have a more balanced view. Especially if Virgil knows. He's a sensible boy, he'd tell you what he really thinks. If Scott has fallen for him, he must be decent underneath, or I'd be surprised if he isn't. Scott is unlikely to forget himself that far under any circumstances."

"And if they like him? What then? Do I invite him to the island with open arms? You know I can't do that Penny."

"How about a spot of operation cover-up and the old blindfold, Jeff?" Lady Penelope raised her eyebrows,

"But he knows who we are. What's the point of operation cover-up?"

"If he comes to the island blindfold, so he doesn't know where he is, and if everything that could give an untrustworthy person something to write about is hidden, then he won't learn any more than he already knows. How could it affect security?"

"I guess you're right Penny, but it goes against everything I've taught the boys. It's still a risk. If he was just playing up to Scott to get here, there's plenty he could find out by coming here knowing who we are and going for a nose around. It's different when it's someone who's oblivious to it."

"You've had people at the base who've known who you are before."

"Children Penny. Three on purpose, one by accident. And I was never very happy about it."

"Yet you agreed to that little boy coming out as a Christmas treat."

"Well, like I said at the time, if we can't do something like that for someone once in a while, things have come to a pretty pass."

"Shouldn't you be doing something like that for your son then?" Jeff felt a twinge of uncertainty. Trust Penny to find the spot to hit.

"Ned Cook is no child. He could snoop around in a way that child couldn't."

"The child could still have gone home and told people everything he'd found out. You took the risk. Don't you think it might be as well to take it again? Why not bring him over for the day once or twice, see how you feel about him. You could keep an eye on where he was all the time then."

"I'll think about it. But this is Ned Cook we're talking about."

"Talk to your boys. In fact, ask Tin-Tin. You could ask her without asking Scott. She's a clever girl Jeff. She would take it calmly and keep a secret if need be and she didn't know, but I should think she does know."

"Why should Tin-Tin know?"

"Because she's a woman and she spends a lot of time with your boys. If Scott has been behaving oddly, she will have made an effort to find out why."

"I couldn't. It would be awkward."

"Don't be silly Jeff. She might even be able to give you some better advice. If she does, follow it. Now, how do you feel?"

"Better, I guess. I'm still not sure, but I get the feeling Scott isn't either. I mean, not that he doesn't, love, this man, but that he's not sure of himself carrying on with it. Does that make sense?"

"Yes Jeff. Like father, like son; as I said. Don't let it affect your relationship. It needn't. And let him tell his brothers in his own time, if they don't know, though they'll find out if Ned does come over, no doubt. Is that all?"

"Yes. That's all. Thanks Penny."

"Take care of yourself, Jeff, and do try to be sensitive. Goodbye." The picture flicked back to Penelope's still portrait and Jeff leaned back in his chair,

"Bye Penny," he murmured. He rubbed his face hard with his hand and thought. Still not happy, but at least with a way to move forward. He got up, unlocked the door and sent for Tin-Tin.


	10. Looking in the Mirror

Tin-Tin walked into Jeff's office, looking politely interested,

"Yes, Mr Tracy, what can I do for you?"

"Sit down Tin-Tin, I'd like to ask you a few questions." Jeff gestured to a chair and, once she was seated, took the other chair.

"I just spoke to Penelope. She suggested I talk to you, but I want this to be in the strictest confidence. Understand?"

"Of course, Mr Tracy." Tin-Tin smoothed her skirt down and waited. Jeff paused for a moment before speaking, uncertain of how to begin.

"I learnt something from Scott today, a relationship, with…Ned Cook. Did you know there was something going on?" Tin-Tin looked nervous,

"Well, yes, I did… but I couldn't have told…" Jeff shushed her,

"No, no, of course not. I just want to know how you found out and who knows about it and, oh, I don't know, why I didn't find out by myself. And, what do you think about it." Tin-Tin smiled, relaxing. She could see how tense Jeff was, and her worry that he might be angry with her was gone.

"I knew because I noticed a lot of little things and put them together. Mostly because I keep on the look out for that sort of thing because it interests me. I don't suppose you would have noticed because you don't think about that sort of thing very much."

"What did you notice? What was there to notice?"

"Oh, just little things; how he talked about Ned, how he coloured up when you spoke about him. The way he wanted leave, the way he kept his top out of the wash because Ned had been wearing it. I did get a big clue at the start though. He had Ned's number in his trouser pocket. That's a little unusual, don't you think? But you wouldn't have known most of it."

"So who knows now?" Tin-Tin went on cautiously,

"I told John. I had to tell someone and he seemed the safest. We didn't tell anyone else. Virgil knows because Scott kissed Ned in front of him. I don't think Alan or Gordon know. Brains doesn't, neither does Grandmama or my father. They ought to know though. It's silly not to tell people. They'll find out. I was surprised Grandmama didn't work it out, she's as bad as me." Tin-Tin paused for a moment, "What are you going to do? Scott wants to bring him here doesn't he?"

"Sure he does. But I can't work my way round to letting him at the moment. For one thing, I know Scott's not going to put pressure on me to agree, and if he can control himself, I'm not risking a security breach for no good reason. Still, I'd like to know your impression of Ned."

"I haven't met him Mr Tracy. But I've heard Scott talk about him, and I've spoken to Virgil and John and they both like him. I think he's very different when he's not working. Besides, I trust Scott. He knows what's important and what isn't a threat. He truly trusts Ned. And he truly loves him, you mustn't doubt that."

"What would you do Tin-Tin?"

"I'd get Ned over here. But I don't expect you to. Maybe you should… no, it's not my place to say."

"Go ahead Tin-Tin."

"Well, I would suggest that you think seriously about getting Ned here, because Scott never will push you. I know that and so do you. It doesn't mean he doesn't want it." Jeff pushed his hand through his hair and looked at her, unconvinced.

"I don't see how I can do that. But thank-you Tin-Tin. I'll bear it in mind. That's all. Sorry to have bothered you."

"It's no trouble Mr Tracy," said Tin-Tin, smiling sweetly, and she got up and left the room, her expression turning darker as she made her way back to her own room.

Jeff sat back once more, thinking. If only he could really sort out his feelings before he had to talk to Scott again, but his chats with Penny and Tin-Tin didn't seem to have sorted him out any more than to tell him what he ought to be doing. He had established that he still loved his son. Fine. But could he keep that up if he couldn't understand, if he couldn't even work out what he felt? He slumped in the chair, pouting, and picked nervously at the leather arms.

It was late at night before Jeff decided he had to speak to Scott. The intervening time had done nothing to calm him or sort out his feelings, and in truth, he wasn't ready. However, the time spent brooding over it had made things worse, not better, and it seemed like any more time would exponentially increase the problem in his mind. So at one o'clock, he pressed the button that connected him with Scott's room and immediately, Scott appeared on his screen. He hadn't been to bed, that was clear, and he looked tired and worried.

"Would you come up to the lounge Scott? I'd like to talk to you now."

"Sure, Father," Scott replied, and the screen went dead. A few seconds later, Scott himself came into the room. The rest of the family were in bed and the house was quiet. Jeff gestured to the couch and sat on the chair next to it. After a while he spoke,

"Look Scott, I'm having real problems dealing with what you told me today, and I don't want to be. It's really none of my business whether you prefer men or women, but I guess it matters to me more than I thought it did at first. You're my son and I love you, and because of that I'm really making an effort. But also because of that, I need you to give me some indication that what's going on is real and justified. I can't operate with all this uncertainty. Do you want me to agree to letting Ned Cook come here?" Scott looked helplessly round the room,

"I want…I want you to be happy with him. I don't want him to come here and you not be happy about it."

"But you're not happy that he can't come here? You're in love with him, you can't be happy he can't come here."

"No. I would love him to be here. But the risk, the way you'd feel about it, the way I'd feel about it…I'm not sure that that doesn't cancel it out. I need to know that it's not such a risk, but I don't see how I can. Give me an idea Father. If I could know that it would be safe…but we'd never know till he'd been and then…"

"I thought you trusted him?" Jeff's voice was rising, frustration growing in him. Scott could see it, but there was nothing he could do. If he had another answer, he'd give it. But he didn't.

"I do trust him. But I don't trust myself. I could never forgive myself if my trust was misplaced. In the end it doesn't matter whether I love him and trust him, or not, because my situation is not going to change, so I guess I don't want him here. Except I do, desperately."

"Make up your mind!" Jeff said, fiercely. His calm demeanour had left him, blood rushing to his face. Scott fell back in his chair, as if pushed by the force of his father's anger – so unexpected, so sudden. Jeff's mind was whirling, all the uncertainties he had quashed rising to the surface, wearing a different guise: not anger at his son's decisions, no, those he could accept, but anger at those decisions he had not made; could not make.

"How do you mean, Father?" Scott asked, his voice steady, trying to calm, but covering up a torrent of emotion. He had felt so safe coming here tonight.

"You need to give me a clue. How can I know what to think when I get no answers from you? If you love this man, you must want him to be with you here. Yet you always qualify it. There is always a 'but'. I can't make decisions for you Scott. What do you want?" Jeff was standing now and he bellowed the last four words. Scott shrank under the onslaught, but Jeff's anger carried him on,

"Every time I send you out on a rescue, I depend on you to make split-second decisions. How can I trust you with that, if here and now you have a conflict of interests that prevents you making the simplest choice…" Scott was jolted into speech,

"No Father! It's not simple. It's the most difficult thing I've ever done in my life. It's like knowing you have to breathe to live, but then being told the air's poisoned. Breathe or don't breathe. Either way, the outlook's not good." Jeff was pacing now,

"Fantastic, I ask for answers, I get mumbo jumbo…"

"No! I love Ned. I'm crazy about him. I hate every day I don't see him. But it's not who I am. You, YOU trained me. The air-force trained me to obey orders and learn, but you've been the best damn teacher I could have, and YOU taught me to put our secrecy and security, and what we are for people in danger, first. That is imprinted so deeply into my head that I can't shift it, even when it's a matter of life and death. The only way I'd ignore it is if something so soul-breakingly important came up that I had to." Scott was on his feet too, almost chasing his father round the room. "Well, this might be it, but I can't be sure, because that sense of duty, which gets me through everything else and makes me passionate about my job, is in the way of my analysing this thing properly. That's YOUR training. And you are exactly the same, or you'd have made that decision for me. Everyone criticises most in others that which most closely reflects themselves. Please don't think I've changed. Dad." Scott sat again, his last words sad and…

"For pity's sake. Stand up to me!" shouted Jeff. "Persuade me to like him. Prove to me that you are the Scott I know…" A slight gasp behind him made Jeff wheel round, his face livid, fists clenched by his side.

Gordon, John, Virgil and Grandma were standing in their nightclothes, stunned, behind the partition with the next room.

"Dad? What's going on?" Gordon asked, scared, but almost before he'd finished saying it, the eyes of Alan's portrait started to flash and the bleeper announcing the incoming transmission sounded.

Silently, Jeff strode to his desk, ignoring his sons and mother. He sat and took a deep breath before opening comms.

"Go ahead Alan." Alan appeared on the screen, looking slightly dishevelled, his blond hair sticking up in clumps, his eyes droopy.

"Emergency call, Father. Bad weather has caused flooding and subsidence on an area of ground forming the main residential area of a city. Apparently it's still pretty rough and the helijets can't cope. There's a children's home that looks like it's going to fall, but the kids can't get out because the whole area is flooded and marshy and the weather's too bad to get boats in, especially in the dark. There's plenty of people trapped in the houses too."

"Okay Alan, send the coordinates through and then see if you can find out any more." He flicked off the connection.

"Virgil, take pod four with the extra equipment. Gordon, you go with him, be prepared for some muddy work. John, I want you to go and be prepared to take over manning the mobile control unit if necessary. I want you all in coveralls, and if you're in that water, wear a mask, you don't know what might be in it." Virgil went off to his wall panel, while Gordon and John made their way to the passenger lift. Scott sat, watching his father, then got up,

"Father?" No response. Jeff didn't look at him.

"Father?" Still nothing. Scott yelled,

"You're wasting time! Those kids could be in the muck by now." Jeff turned to him,

"Launch Thunderbird One," he said, dangerously quietly. Scott ran to the wall and gripped the handrails tightly as the walkway took him to the ship.

Even with the delay, Thunderbird One was still airborne before Thunderbird Two. Scott checked the destination details and pointed his craft in the right direction. As he changed to horizontal flight, the comms link to Thunderbird Two went off and reluctantly Scott opened the channel. Gordon's voice came over, sounding wary,

"What was that about, Scott? It sounded like Dad was really mad. What did you do?" Scott closed his eyes,

"Not now Gordon. Definitely not now."

"What? Why?" Gordon whined, Virgil cut him off,

"He means it Gord. Just wait. Is it okay Scott?"

"I don't know Virg. But I do mean it, I'm not discussing it now. Let's get this job done. My ETA is about fifteen minutes, so I'll set up as soon as I get there and see what I can find out."

"FAB Scott," said Virgil and cut the channel. Scott called ahead to the area superintendent,

"This is International Rescue, I believe you require our assistance. I will require a safe landing area and security guards to protect my vehicle."

"Wilco, International Rescue. You can land at the city heliport, it's on higher ground near to the disaster area and we've set up our communications HQ here. Visibility's pretty poor, but if you go to reference four-eight, you should see the landing lights. Head for the red circle and I'll send some men over once you've landed. Thanks for coming."

"No problem. I'll have some more equipment landing shortly in a larger craft, can I pass on a landing place for them?"

"Sure, the green circle due west of your spot is free. Same reference. Tell them to watch the side-wind as they come in, it catches people out round the side of that tower."

"Roger, Superintendent. ETA now two minutes. Over and out."

Scott passed on the information to Virgil, and a couple of minutes later, he was bringing Thunderbird One in to land, buffeted by high winds and pelting rain. As he opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder, Scott saw six men in waterproof overalls running towards him. He shook hands with them as he explained the need for the craft to be protected from photography and intruders, then he operated the remote controls of the mobile control unit and manoeuvred it over to the building that one of the security men pointed out as the HQ.

Bringing the unit into the main control room, Scott was greeted by the Superintendent, a tall, British man with dark hair and a moustache, who shook him by the hand,

"I'm Super Palhurst. Very glad you could make it, er…"

"Tracy's the name." Scott set up the unit in a corner and then went across to look at the area map on a flatbed display in the centre of the room. Palhurst joined him to explain,

"You see the area marked in blue has always been water, swamp and so on, but the area in orange shows the extent of the current flooding. It's unprecedented. Small areas have been known to flood, some of them regularly, but nothing like this. I can only speak for the last two years, since I was posted out here, but it seems that much of this area…" He gestured with his hand, "has hardly suffered at all in the past. Clearly the buildings are not built to withstand it, it's a fairly poor area anyway, and their foundations and construction can't cope."

"So which are the buildings in the most immediate danger?"

"This group here, the children's home, these twenty or so houses and this building which is a sort of community centre. They are the worst from what we could see before the light failed. But now, the wind came up again when it got dark and we haven't been able to effect any sort of rescue since. We had started to evacuate some of the properties nearest to us, they are all sitting on their roofs or in their attics, but by the time we found there were worse-affected properties, it was too late. I don't even know if they will still be standing now."

"Right. Well, I have to wait for the extra equipment to get here, but it should arrive at any moment now. I'll probably leave another man in charge here, if the weather improves at all, you still need to work on evacuating what properties you can, we'll focus our efforts on the children's home and those other properties for a start."

The mobile control unit flashed a signal and Virgil appeared on the screen,

"Coming in to land now Scott. I guess we'll be straight off again though will we?"

"Nearly. I want John to come over and relieve me. I'm going to bring across Thunderbird One to join you, I don't think it's worth even trying to approach the area in any other way in this weather. It might be worth Gordon being ready to hop into Four though. We might well be looking for survivors in the water."

"FAB Scott. Okay, we've touched down. I see some guys running over. Where do I send John?"

"Straight over to the big blue doors in the middle of the tower wall. But he can come over with those guys, I want you to get over to quadrant three as soon as they're out of blast range, go and do a recce on that children's home for me. It's the tallest building in the area, or it was. Big stone-built thing."

"FAB." In a minute, John entered the control room, soaked to the skin as Scott had been.

"Right, John, this is Super Palhurst, he's in charge here, but he's taking your orders. Liase with him on when to send out conventional rescue gear to the nearest areas if the weather improves. I'm going to take Thunderbird One out there and try to help. Keep comms open, we might need more information."

"Right. See you later Scott."

"Oh, and call base and explain the situation will you? I haven't had time to call in yet."

"FAB." Scott nodded at the Super and ran across the tarmac to Thunderbird One. He dismissed the guards and waited till they were out of the way before firing the take-off jet and flying across to meet Thunderbird Two in the worst-hit area.

The Super had been right, visibility was appalling, and the gale now up to much the same strength as the blizzard in the mountains had been. Scott fought with the controls to bring himself down into the space between the buildings, trying to get a look at the position of the children's home. He called Thunderbird Two.

"What have you found out Virgil?"

"Very little Scott. They've got no transmitting equipment in there and with the weather being so poor, I haven't been able to communicate with them at all. It's leaning badly though. We watched it go a little more a minute ago. We're going to have to work quickly. I guess it's a case of getting a line down there with the passenger cage and getting as many of them out that way as we can. There's no way they can get out on the lower floors: the first two are flooded and it looks like there's severe structural damage on the third. I can't get as close as you, but Gordon pointed the 'scope at the windows and it looks like most of them are bunched up in the second floor from the top. The roof's off, so I guess they didn't fancy the top floor, but it doesn't make our job any easier. The angle's poor too, there are no windows on the upside slope as it were. The sides are too close to other buildings on that floor and of course the front is now tucked under. But it's not going to matter a hoot in a short while."

"Okay. You reckon we could hold it with a line to the back?"

"Negative, Scott. I fired a test line when we arrived. The mortar is like a sponge, you fix anything to those stones and they're just going to pull out. We'll have to send something through the windows and hope they realise to tie it on to something strong. You'll have to do it, I can't get in close enough with these buildings to cope with the angle to those windows."

"FAB Virgil. Lining up now." Scott eased his ship round to the front and brought it cautiously in towards the overhang of the leaning building. The windows looked small and dark. The floodlights blazing from Thunderbirds One and Two were weak and flickering in the storm.

"I can't see if there's anyone in these rooms Virg. I'm just going to have to chance it. Why can't we have a nice calm day? This is the third storm we've dealt with in a month, I'd sure like one where you can stand up outside without hanging on to something."

"At least it's not so cold here. It's actually quite warm, and you couldn't say that about the last three," Virgil said, soothingly.

"Sure. Small mercy. Well, here goes. Firing line now." Scott pulled the line trigger and the gun-like device projecting from a hatch under the cockpit fired the line towards the building. It shot across the gap, but before it could reach the window, an even stronger blast of wind caught it and it soared to the left, snagging in flailing power lines far along what had been the street. The whipping cables tore at the line and hauled at Thunderbird One, dragging the ship towards the walls on either side of it. Scott pulled helplessly at the controls, trying to stabilise, but it was no use, any second he would crash through one of those walls and become another piece of debris.

"Cutting line!" he shouted, and pulled the trigger a second time. The line disconnected from Thunderbird One and flew off like a ribbon in a breeze, making a nest of tangled loops in the power lines. Scott blew out a long breath, his heart beating fast.

"What happened?" Virgil asked,

"Line flew off, I allowed for the wind, but it was too strong. Got caught in some power lines off over there and they're strong as all hell. I'll have to try again."

"How many lines have you got?"

"One left. That is, one I can fire. There's plenty of rope in the storage bays here, but we can't get it to the building."

"Okay. Can you get closer before you fire?"

"Negative. I'm getting too much buffeting being in this tunnel. If I get closer I might hit. Any ideas?"

"I guess you'd just better wait for a lull and hope for the best."

"FAB. Firing on the next lull." Scott waited, his finger tight round the trigger as he watched the readouts on the panel in front of him and felt the ship shifting. Then the movement settled for a moment and he pulled the trigger.

Again the line fired out and this time reached the building, but the wind was rising again and as it came level with the window, it was carried on, landing barely past the frame on the stone wall. The angle made it slide across the stone to the sill of the next window, and for a second Scott thought it was catching on the broken glass; but the wind carried it on again, Scott reeling it back as fast as he could, until it caught in a tree and, lashing around it, became hopelessly entangled once more. Reluctantly, Scott cut the line again, his lips pressed tightly together. Elbow on the arm of his chair, he rested his chin on his fist, thinking, until the wind buffeted him hard and he was forced to grasp the controls to bring her back up, out of danger.

"Well Virgil, time for Plan B."

"You did your best Scott. What is Plan B?"

"I don't know. Let me think for a minute." Virgil and Gordon were silent, also thinking, as their brother sat alone in his cockpit and ran dozens of ideas through his head, most of them too slow, all the rest impossible. In theory.

"Virgil." Scott's voice broke through the drumming rain and howling wind that were audible even in the heavily protected cockpit of Thunderbird Two.

"Go ahead Scott."

"I need Gordon to come and take over from me."

"How Scott? There's no way I can land out here, and if I try it on the building, I'll have it over."

"I know. He'll have to fire one of your lines over. I can't do this any other way. I need to go across and get the kids out onto my wing. That'll give us enough clearance from the building for you to drop your passenger lift. I can't believe I lost the lines, but we'll have to cope without. The wind is blowing along the street, but it's creating a vortex round that corner. If I can swing out on one of the ropes, I can tie it off on one of the loops by the wing, and then I reckon I can make it over there. As long as I hit the wall, I can get to the window, there's such high pressure along here, I reckon I could scale it without much help anyway."

"It's crazy Scott, the building will be leaning right over you."

"I know. I'm not looking forward to it, but if I can get in there and secure that line, I can bring the kids across. I'll fasten another line over the fuselage and you can drop the lift onto the other wing. I reckon I could get two across at a time and…"

"Scott you can't. Even supposing you made it across, Thunderbird One isn't built for climbing on. It'll destabilise it, and the wings curve remember? They're going to be slippery as glass and bucking in the wind. You'll be fighting the gale, probably fighting a couple of terrified kids too. We're not talking one or two kids here anyway. There's about twenty-five of them in there, plus five or so adults. And that's assuming Gordon can hold it steady."

"He can do it."

"He's not experienced enough. You know he's not. He only just brought her in safely the last time."

"No, he did fine. It was only the flight pattern that was off. I was just teasing with…with Dad. He flies her fine, just fine."

"Yeah, okay, in normal circumstances, but I'm having enough trouble keeping this baby in the air, and I can fly her in my sleep. Why don't you pilot and let Gordon go across?"

"Because, firstly, Gordon hasn't got such a good head for heights; secondly, this is a strength job and you know as well as I do and Gordon does that not all those old injuries have healed completely – all the swimming training in the world isn't going to cover up for that when he's swinging helplessly from a rope out there with a kid on each arm; and thirdly, you're right, it's completely crazy, insane and impossible. And it's my idea, and it's going to be my neck out there, not anyone else's.

"Do you reckon you can do this Gordon?" Scott asked at last. "It means holding her dead steady in that alleyway. She's compensating for most of the buffeting, but you have to keep your eye fixed on that gyro and pull her round when she deviates the slightest bit. You'll be wrestling with her a bit when we climb on the wing, but I know you can do it. What do you think?"

"I guess Scott." Gordon's voice had none of its usual cheeky jocularity, it was nervous, but determined. "But I really won't know till I try, and then… shouldn't we ask Dad? Maybe he'll have another idea?"

"No. Dad will say no to this. He'll say no because he's not here and because he won't believe it has enough chance to risk it, and he won't come up with a better plan because he can't evaluate all the circumstances from there in the time. If we hesitate any longer we're going to lose every damn kid in there. I'd rather face Dad at the end of it having tried and failed, than live with myself if I didn't try."

"Scott it's crazy," said Virgil, "Dad will flip if it goes wrong. Are you sure you're not just doing this to prove…"

"No! This has nothing to do with anything else. You focus, Virgil Tracy. You tell me another way to do this here and now with the equipment we have and we'll do it. I can't think of that other way and this is really urgent, I don't want to sit here and watch that house full of kids fall into the mud and drown them."

Virgil thought for a moment.

"If you can't think of it Scott, it isn't there. Let's go."

Scott pulled Thunderbird One level with the top of Thunderbird Two and linked up to Gordon's personal transmitter before recognising a signal from John.

"You hear what we're doing John?"

"Sure Scott. Alan was about to pass it on when you said not to. You sure you're not going to tell Dad?"

"No John. He'd stop us and I can't disobey him. I'd rather just bypass him for the moment. Plus I'm not so sure he'd trust my judgement today on something completely safe, let alone this." Scott paused, waiting for the inevitable questions. But they didn't come.

"Well, good luck, Scott. Keep transmitting. I want to hear what's going on. Good luck Gordon, rather you than me."

"Gee, thanks John, you make me feel a whole lot better!" said Gordon, a little of his lightheartedness returning to his voice. Scott cut in.

"Hurry this up guys. Gordon, can you fire the line to me here?"

"Sure Scott. Where shall I aim for?"

"Somewhere near the hatch, but keep your line short, you might need a couple of goes." Gordon took aim, fired, and missed. The short line lashed at the nose cone as it reeled back in.

"Sorry about your fresh paintwork Scott," said Gordon. Scott smiled ruefully. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Gordon shifted his aim further back along the ship, waited, and fired again. This time the line struck the side of the ship just next to the wing, the clamping arms shot out and secured it and Gordon whooped.

"Got it!"

"Well done Gordon! Okay, clip yourself to that line with an extendable link, you're a bit off at this end, but the wind's blowing the right way to get you to the hatch. Then keep tight hold as you come across, don't trust your harness in this." Gordon appeared out of Thunderbird Two's top hatch, clipping himself to the line. He tugged on it a few times,

"Keep them steady fellas," he said, and hauled himself up and out until he was dangling from the line, swinging violently in the gale as he moved away from the vast bulk of Thunderbird Two. The rain made the line slippery and as he reached the middle and started the uphill climb, his breathing became heavier as he struggled to maintain his grip. At last he reached the glistening silver metal of the smaller craft and called to Scott,

"I'm across."

"FAB, opening hatch now. If you put the brake on the clip and let out your link and claw along the side, you should be blown towards the hatch." Scott pulled the override on the hatch-opening and it slid back. Gordon did as instructed, slid gracefully to the hatchway and climbed inside. Scott closed the hatch once Gordon was unclipped.

"Release the line Virgil. That worked at least. Nice work Gordon. I'll take her down into position, then we'll swap over and get going." Gordon clung to the side of the pilot's seat as Scott gingerly brought Thunderbird One back into position in the narrow passage in front of the children's home. He unbuckled the straps holding him in his seat, waited until conditions seemed stable, then cried,

"Swap!" He flung himself out of the seat and Gordon scrambled in and took the controls. The craft shifted a little, but Gordon soon had her back under control as Scott pulled on a harness and grabbed two thick loops of rope and a short temporary line-firer from the wall compartments.

"Open hatch Gordon."

"FAB." Gordon opened the hatch and both brothers screwed up their eyes as the wind and rain pelted into the cockpit. Scott glanced at Gordon, his eyes were wide open in an expression that said 'you really want to go out there like that?'. He looked away, grabbed hold of the handle by the hatch and leant out into the storm.

The rain streaming into his eyes made aiming difficult, but at least the wing he was aiming at was motionless in relation to the bit of floor he was standing on. He sighted the line-firer and squeezed the trigger. The line seemed to make tortuously slow progress through the air as the prevailing wind was directly opposed to it, but the distance was just short enough for success, and soon Scott was tugging on the line, trying it for grip.

"Okay Gordon, I'm going out, let her in as close to that wall as you think is safe. I'm going to have to chuck that rope from the end of the wing, it's no good if we're not close enough." Virgil's voice came over the comms,

"Scott, you keep yourself clipped on, I don't want to get filthy rescuing you from that muck."

"Sure Virg," Scott replied, thankful for the jest, no matter how forced. "Go easy on those controls Gordon, let Virgil talk you through if you get panicky. See you." Scott gave a final tug on the line, which he had clipped to his harness and swung out along the side of his ship.

The wind kept trying to push him back to the hatch, but planting his feet firmly on the metal, Scott could walk crab-like towards the wing, shooting glances at the anchor from time to time, looking for any sign of it sliding away. Several times the wind caught him and whipped him round, slamming him against the side of Thunderbird One till his ribs ached. The rushing air on his wet face sucked the warmth out of him and the metal was freezing when he touched it.

At last Scott reached the wing and hauled himself onto it, gripping his fingers round the sheath that protected the slot into which it folded. One hand hung on while with his other, he threaded the ends of the two ropes through the loop set into the side of the craft, leaving one coil by the loop. Lying flat, he wriggled along on his stomach, sliding at first in the middle of a desert of smooth, featureless metal, then, more securely, gripping the edges of the wing where its end formed a point with one side. At the very tip of the wing he stopped and took off the bulk of the rope that he had been wearing like a sash. Then he lay flat on the wing and paused, readying himself.

"Scott? You okay?" Virgil's voice was worried.

"I'm fine Virgil. It was just a bit hairy getting here and I thought a rest would be good." He gathered the coil and unrolled a length he hoped would easily reach to the window for which he was aiming. Then, gingerly, he sat up, legs splayed in front of him, knees bent, so that the sideways motion of his body was transferred through to the greatest area of grip on the soles of his boots. Then, grasping the edge of the wing with one hand, he leant back, coil in his other hand, and with a fluid motion threw the coil with all his strength towards the gaping hole of the window opposite. By determination, grace, or pure blind luck, the coil sailed straight through the window and the rope hung in space, being flung from side to side, but not slipping back. However, for the moment, Scott didn't see this; he lay on his side, holding the slippery metal with numbing gloved fingers as the tilted wing rolled him towards the edge. Over his headset he could hear Gordon cursing and Virgil giving quiet orders to bring the craft back to stability. The wing was righted and Scott shakily shifted himself back onto his front in the centre.

"Sorry Scott, that was a vicious gust," said Gordon apologetically.

"No problem; good work righting her Gordon. Thanks Virg. Looks like the rope's in. I just hope someone does something with it, it's no good as it is." Scott unhooked the torch from his utility belt and shone its powerful beam across the gap and through the window. The lashing rain made it hard to see anything, but Scott thought he saw a shadow move in the depths of the room beyond. Then he was certain: the rope at his side was moving towards the window, straightening and becoming tauter. It jiggled for a while as if it were being tied to something, then it was swinging in the wind again before, quite distinctly, it was given two hard tugs, a universal sign for 'ready now', if ever Scott had seen one.

"Okay guys, someone's tied off that rope. I'm going to clip myself to it and go across, I just hope it holds. Wish me luck."

"Good luck Scott." He heard the replies as he fastened the clip on the front of his harness to the wildly swaying rope. Virgil, Gordon, John…and Alan, he must be listening in more closely than usual: all too often he just took on the progress reports from mobile control if possible.

Sitting on the edge of the wing, Scott eased himself off until his full weight was hanging on the rope. Slowly he pulled himself forward, hand over hand, thankful for the tough leather gloves he wore. The motion of the rope was disorienting and the drop below dizzying, but in this respect, the low visibility was actually a blessing, cocooning him in a bubble of clear space only big enough to see the building ahead. In a couple of minutes he was at the sill and scrambling over the jagged edges of the broken window, into the room.

Wiping the rain out of his eyes, Scott looked round the room, flashing his torch around the walls. In a corner sat two women and four children of about six years of age, a girl and three boys. The rope on which Scott had arrived was tied to a pillar in the middle of the room, and Scott quickly checked the knots and made it more fast before going over to the huddled group. The children looked terrified and apparently spoke no English, but the adults appeared fairly calm and understood when Scott greeted them.

"Hi, I'm from International Rescue, we've come to get you out."

"Thank-you so much, we thought no-one would be able to come here."

"The normal emergency services couldn't. That's why we're here. Who tied the rope?"

"I did sir." The younger woman spoke, sounding more nervous than she looked.

"Well done, I couldn't have done much if you hadn't. Now we've got to get you out as quickly as possible. This isn't all of you is it?"

"No sir," the older woman answered this time, "We thought it would be better not all to be in one room, in case something happened, some would survive. The youngest children are in the room behind this one, seven of them with another two adults, then the nine older children are next to that room with one more adult."

"Twenty children, five adults. Can you go and tell the adults in the other rooms that I am here and to stay put and keep calm, I'll get you out first, then the younger ones, then the oldest. Quick as you can please." Scott watched her go and while they waited for her to return, he unrolled a second harness from his belt and instructed the younger woman to put it on. She looked desperately uncomfortable wearing it, but Scott spoke soothingly to her and explained the safety features, omitting the obvious deficiencies of the rope set-up to which she would be attached. By the time the older woman returned, the younger was looking happier about what she had to do. Scott selected the youngest looking child, a boy whose name he was informed was 'Dan' and lifted him in his arms. He turned to the younger woman,

"Could you explain to him that he's got to hold very tightly to me and not be frightened, it's going to be fun, like going on a fairground ride, but he has to be very good." The woman nodded and taking the little boy's hand in hers, she spoke quickly to him. He nodded with wide eyes and wrapped his arms tightly round Scott's neck. Scott smiled at him and nodded back.

"I'll go across first, then you follow just like I told you," he told the woman. "Okay Dan, off we go." Scott clipped himself onto the line once more and spoke into his comms mic,

"Virgil, I'm starting back across with the first kid. There's a woman who is going to follow and we'll climb over to the other wing, so if you lower your cage now, she'll stay there with the boy till I bring back the others."

"FAB Scott, take care." Scott climbed onto the windowsill and let himself off the other side. The rope sagged alarmingly at first, but the extra weight of the child made it more stable than before and the swaying was less violent. Dan's hair tickled Scott's neck, but fear or obedience kept him still and hand over hand once more, Scott made his way back to the wing. Getting onto the wing proved more difficult. The rope was pulled taut over the edge and with Dan attached to his front, Scott could not swing round into a position to haul himself up. Eventually he let go of the rope with one hand and pushed on Dan's shoulder to put him back where he could see him. Smiling reassuringly, he mimed holding onto the rope that lay flat on the wing. Dan looked confused for a second, but then put one hand on the rope. Scott put his free arm around the top of Dan's legs and pulled himself level with the wing with his other arm. Pushing Dan onto the wing, he checked he had a firm grip on the rope before swiftly letting go and pulling himself up with him. With the rope now slackened again, he put his arm back round Dan and crawled with him back to the loop where the rope was tied off. Sitting him down, he tied the second rope around him and signalled to him to sit still there. Smiling again, he made his way back to the tip of the wing and flashed the torch at the window. A short time later his clip was flattened to the wing as the tension on the rope increased, the woman was on the rope and he could soon make out her shape coming slowly towards him.

As she reached the wing, Scott reached out and grabbed the woman's wrist. Pulling her in, he reached down and putting his arm round her waist, managed to roll her up onto the wing. She was shivering with cold and fear, her hair plastered down her face, but there was a certain pride in her achievement that made Scott grin.

"Well done, that was great. Dan's sitting up here, don't unclip yourself." He helped her crawl along the wing to where Dan sat, then he untied Dan, letting him cling to the woman for safety.

Re-coiling the second rope, Scott threw it over the body of Thunderbird One. The first time it slithered back, but the second throw was successful. Scott called to Gordon,

"Gordon, I need you to lose about ten feet in altitude and roll twenty degrees left left, as smoothly as you can, I have to climb over and I can't do it at this angle."

"FAB Scott." The blast of the VTOL jet announced the descent, then short directional bursts tilted the craft until Scott could scramble up beside the rope to the middle of the fuselage.

"Okay Gordon, right her again and take her back up."

"FAB." A slight wobble, a blast of jets, and Thunderbird One was back in position. Scott clung to the rope and slid carefully down the other side, where he tied the rope off on the loop, forming a handrail over the top of the ship. The passenger lift hung in the air above and in front of him and he called to Virgil,

"Lower passenger lift, put it down on the wing, and leave it there, I'll get all of this lot across first."

Each child across was another swoop out into the void, another gradual increase in the aches in Scott's muscles, another risky moment as he pushed the child onto the wing. First the middle group, then the very youngest, then the oldest ones of about ten and eleven. Each adult across was a talking round, a gentle coercing to do something they simply could not contemplate at the start, another risky moment as they were pulled on board. And all the time, the terrifying moments as Gordon lost control for a second and Thunderbird One jerked alarmingly beneath them, throwing them to the metal, rolling them to the very edge of the wing. The last adult came across before the last of the oldest children, Scott didn't want to risk an inexperienced person being the last across. At last, Gordon called frantically, having held his peace for hours,

"Scott, how long are you going to be? I can't do this much longer, I can't concentrate any more."

"I've got three kids left to get, hang on there Gordon, you're doing the job of your life, you've been fantastic, keep it up."

Then the building started to move again.

"Look out Scott!" Shouted Virgil, half deafening Scott. It stopped again, but the angle was now so precarious that another shift would surely topple it. Mysteriously large amounts of what looked like black soil were cascading from what should have been a slated roof. Scott thought quickly, there was a possibility…

"Gordon, I'm going to climb back over to the other side, then I want you to bring her in right to the building, use the yaw jets, fold up the wings, it'll make her less stable, but I want you to use the length of the body to push that wall back, if you go in at this altitude, the wing should hit on the windowsill and I can bring those kids straight over without the rope."

"But that's so dangerous, the lot could fall on us…"

"It's more likely to fall where it is now, don't argue, there isn't time, right I'm in place, get moving."

"I don't know how Scott, I've never…"

"Bring the right lever gently towards you, knock the lower one with your lower fingers, that'll kick in the yaws on their own…" Gordon did so and Thunderbird One started to drift towards the building. "Good, gently does it, now leave the lower one and beef up the main. Good." There was a bump, and grinding metal announced the arrival of Thunderbird One's wing in contact with the stone wall.

"Great Gordon, now ease off until you can feel the pressure start to drop, then hold her, I'm going in."

Scott clambered back over, and crouched, swaying in the wind, before jumping onto the sill and climbing into the room. The three children were hanging onto the pillar where the rope was attached, looking utterly terrified. Scott went over to them and asked,

"Do you speak English?" A boy, who looked like the oldest, replied in a very small voice,

"A little bit, sir."

"Good, come to the window, all of you." The two boys went to the window, but the girl seemed to have moulded herself to the pillar and would not let go. Scott pulled gently on her arm, but her grip was too tight and his wet glove slipped on the skin. He shook his head and went back to the boys.

"One at a time, climb up here," He patted the sill to explain, "then hold tight to the rope," He mimed it again, "and climb right over to the other side of the ship. Understand?" The oldest boy nodded and Scott ushered him to start. He put his hand on the second boy's shoulder to make him wait, then when the first was safely, if a little swayingly across, he let the second go and watched him climb over to join his friend. Scott turned back into the room and looked at the girl. He sighed and called to Virgil.

"Virg, let down the lift again, get it as close as you can and see if you can wedge it on the wing edge, I think you should have the clearance. Then tell them to get in, they've got some English. I've got a girl here who's not playing and we might not have time when I get her." Gordon cut in,

"Hurry up Scott, I can't hold her long, I don't know any tricks in this one."

"I know Gordon, you're doing well, just a few more minutes." Scott could hear the grating of metal on stone as Gordon's control became more erratic. The sound wasn't helping the girl who shrank further against the pillar. Scott went over to her and put his arm around her shoulders,

"Speak English?" The girl nodded fractionally. "Okay, you let go and come to the window with me. I'll help you and you'll be holding onto a really strong rope, so you'll be very safe. It will be just like climbing the stairs." Still the girl would not let go. "I'll be right with you, I won't let you fall. I can't help you if you don't cooperate." The girl turned her face away. Scott took hold of her wrist and gently prised it away from the pillar. "Hold onto me, come on…" He pulled a little harder and reluctantly, the girl released her grip on the pillar and put her arms round Scott's neck. He let out a slow breath, she was too big to take across as he had the younger ones, especially as the rope was now slack and he needed both hands to climb over lying tight to the ship. He stood up, holding her with one arm, and made his way to the window. He tried to put her down, but she wouldn't let go. Gordon was running a mantra in his ear,

"Hurry Scott, please hurry, please hurry…"

"Let go!" Scott shouted suddenly at the girl. She let go, the shock doing what gentle urging couldn't. She looked at him reproachfully. Dawn was now fully broken and dim light crept into the area nearest to the window. In the distance, over the howl of the wind, Scott could hear engines and the hum of helijets, the rescue of people from other buildings must be underway once more as the storm eased slightly with the coming day.

"Get on my back." Scott crouched and hauled her into place; legs gripped his sides ferociously, arms tightened around his dripping neck. He loosened them with his hands and heaved himself up onto the windowsill. The slack rope lay in coils on the wing edge and Scott had to avoid it as he stepped down onto Thunderbird One, hanging onto a loop of it. Gordon's control was definitely slipping, the wing scraped up and down the wall as gusts of wind swirled in the oddly shaped gap between the Thunderbird and the building. Scott threw himself down to lie flat against the rising hull of the ship in front of him. The girl's grip tightened on his throat again, but he couldn't let go of the rope. His feet slipped on the slick metal, the strength in his legs having diminished during the many runs to and fro. With aching arms, he pulled himself and the girl to the top of the rise, then lowered them carefully down the other side, rain lashing them. The passenger lift was there, a foot away, the two boys safely stowed inside, crouching in the corner and hanging on tightly. A gust of wind seemed to move it far away, though in fact it moved mere inches. Scott leant out to grab it, other hand still clutching the rope, but in the wind and rain, he couldn't see. His weary arms would no longer respond to subtle hints.

He slid his arm behind him, between himself and the girl, choking as the pressure on his throat increased once more. Wrapping his hand back around her waist, he pulled with all the strength he had, sliding her to one side, until he could move his arm and pull her round in front of him. Her grip was immense, fear holding her to him. He couldn't get her off. Gordon's voice in her ear was more insistent and the increasingly bucking ship was throwing him off balance and making it ever more likely that the passenger lift would swing away.

Scott looked down and looped his foot twice round in the rope serving as a handhold over the ship's body. Gingerly, he let go with his other hand and stood up. Now having both hands free, he gripped both of the girl's arms and pulled her off him. Before she could regain her grip, he turned her round, gripped her under the arms and threw her bodily into the passenger lift. She landed on her feet and crashed into the back wall, but the impact was not hard and the two boys quickly grabbed her and pulled her into their corner.

"Take her up Virgil, they're in." Far above him, motors whined and the lift scraped away from Thunderbird One as it rose up to safety.

Thunderbird One jerked as the weight left the wing and Scott was thrown sideways and back against the wall. His foot, trapped in the rope, twisted round and pain shot up his leg. In silence, he bit his lip, using both hands to haul himself back towards the rope and free his foot, then pulled himself back over Thunderbird One.

On the wing, he pulled in as much as the rope as he could, cutting it off at the farthest point he could reach. Then, holding the coil, he climbed back up to the top, dragging his injured leg behind him.

"Come ON, Scott," moaned Gordon as the ship rocked and the building creaked.

"Coming, open the hatch." Scott crawled towards the nose, using the rope to steady himself. When he was level with the hatch in the side, he let himself over the edge on his front and slid down the side, the rope gliding away from him, back towards the wing. His hands scrabbled at the side as his feet found fresh air, and at last he found purchase on the edge of the hatchway.

Letting go of the rope, Scott climbed into his Thunderbird. Gordon's knuckles were white on the controls and he was dripping with sweat. Scott reached over and closed the hatch.

"Great, work, Gordon," he panted, "Now, sit forward, what is the direction of thrust?" Gordon sat forward, never having had time to strap himself in,

"About two o'clock, but it's variable, I've had to increase thrust steadily for the last fifteen minutes, I think the building is actually falling." He sounded scared, out of place in the air when he would have preferred to be in the water below.

Scott used his good leg to lever himself up onto the pilot's chair, till he was crouching behind Gordon. He reached forward on either side and laid his hands over his brother's on the controls.

"Okay, ease off your pressure, let me feel what you're doing." Gordon did as instructed and Scott felt the controls straining under his hands. He tightened his grip on the outside of his palms, leaving Gordon's hands free.

"Right, let go Gord." Gordon did and Scott grasped the controls more tightly. Gordon was right, Thunderbird One was firing almost at full power to hold the building. Scott addressed his brother again,

"Can you get out? Get down and wrap yourself round something, hang on tight, I'm going to have to shoot out of here at full power, or we'll be crushed." Gordon snaked out from under Scott's arms, and Scott lowered himself into a seated position, wincing as his injured foot touched the footplate.

"Virgil, can you see from up there? Have I got a clear flight-path straight ahead?"

"You're clear if you head upwards straight away. There are power lines…but you know where they are."

"FAB. Okay, hang on Gordon, firing all jets." Scott pulled the controls, imparting a sharp sideways kick to the Thunderbird, before the tail jets fired at maximum, jolting the ship forward and accelerating her to top speed in moments. Thunderbird One shot out and up as stone work and plaster rained down, bouncing off the tail. Behind it, the building fell, crashing into the water below, sending gouts of stinking liquid mud high into the air.

High in the atmosphere and miles away, Scott eased off on the controls and brought his craft back to a low cruising speed. Then turning her, he headed back towards the heliport.

"Virgil, are you on your way to the heliport?"

"Yeah. I've got twenty-five shivering people in here, I'm just landing, I'll get them to the medical area, then I'll head for the control room, okay?"

"FAB Virgil." The line was cut as Virgil landed and started to unload his passengers. "John, is there anything we can do about the other buildings in the area?"

"Not really Scott, the emergency services can cope I think. The wind's eased and they can see what they're doing, they've evacuated half of them, I can't see the rest being a problem now the helijets are out. Besides, I don't expect you're in top form to help, are you?"

"I guess if they can cope, I'd rather not go out there again, but if they need help…"

"Honestly, Palhurst says they'll manage fine. He reckons we all need a hot meal and a bath."

"I'm quite wet enough, thanks John. Well, I'll head back and come to the control room."

"FAB." Scott turned to look at Gordon,

"You alright?"

"Sure Scott. Nice flying." Scott grinned. "Hurt your foot?"

"Twisted it while I was throwing the last girl across. It'll be alright." He started to take off his gloves which were uncomfortably hot now that he was back inside.

"What have you done to your hands?" asked Gordon, alarmed.

"Oh, it's just paint, I was doing my nose-cone earlier. That was a couple of hours wasted, I dread to think what state she's in now. Missed the pot with the paint and couldn't be bothered to clean it off in time."

"Is that what Dad was yelling at you for?" Gordon asked, remembering.

"No. Look, I'll explain that sometime at home. I really can't right now." Some of Scott's ebullient mood had evaporated. Gordon held his tongue and sank onto the floor, holding the bar next to him on the bulkhead.

In a few minutes, they landed back at the helijet and crossed to the control room, Scott leaning on Gordon's shoulder and limping across the tarmac. Super Palhurst welcomed them warmly, alight with admiration, despite the tension of coordinating the rest of the rescue operation. John and Virgil looked at Scott,

"You look done in," John said bluntly.

"No, it's not that bad," replied Scott, "Twisted my ankle, but apart from that I'm just a bit wet really. Being out in that for hours wasn't really a picnic. Gordon's probably worse off than me. He's been concentrating like mad for hours. Bit of food and we'll be fine. If you're sure you don't need any more help?"

Palhurst shook his head, smiling, and had a man take them over to the canteen area where the four of them tucked in to shepherd's pie and hot puddings.

Later, Scott was ensconced back in Thunderbird One, his foot hovering just off the ground, supported by his folded hat tucked under his thigh, he'd get hell from Tin-Tin for that later on. The other three were in Thunderbird Two, already taken off and heading for home. Once airborne, Scott tried to call home to tell his father that he was on his way, but was unable to get through. Alan piped up over comms,

"You won't get through Scott, I haven't reopened the link yet."

"What?"

"Well Dad was pestering me to know what you were doing. I couldn't give him a decent answer. Usually I just give him the idea, tell him it's going fine, and he leaves it at that, but today for some reason he wanted details. I couldn't very well tell him that you'd told me not to, but I couldn't lie, so I broke comms. I've already told Virgil. I really need you to back me up on this. I'm going to bring it back on in a minute or two, but I'll have to tell him that there was a loose connection that took time to find. I need you to tell him that you lost touch with me too, or he's not going to believe me."

"Alan! You turned off Thunderbird Five?"

"No. I'm not that stupid Scott. I just broke the link with Dad. I never lost incoming messages. I could even hear Dad. He's been going mad trying to get through, he's got Brains up and everything. Poor Brains, he's probably had a rotten night, trying to locate the fault. If any of us were home, he'd have launched Thunderbird Three I reckon."

"Okay, well, thanks Alan."

"I still don't see why what you were doing was such a secret. Dad trusts you to know what to do. It worked didn't it?"

"Yeah, it's fine from this end. I just don't think Dad actually trusts my judgement right now, and I couldn't have that jeopardising the rescue."

"Why shouldn't he trust you?"

"Yeah, why Scott?" chimed in Gordon, "Come on, you might as well tell us, while Dad's out of it." Scott thought for a moment, he had to tell them sometime, but he really didn't want to. Yet he knew they wouldn't stop pestering him until he did.

"Ask Virgil. He knows."

"No, I don't Scott. I mean, I know you told him. I'm really proud of you for that. But I don't know what's happened today, I mean, Dad seemed alright earlier."

"Yeah, he was. I don't know what happened. He thought about it too much, I guess. I had to tell him quickly because hiding it was driving me crazy, but I don't know, maybe I didn't think about what I was going to say enough. The jist of the argument this evening was that I should be able to make up my mind whether or not I want Ned here…or at least to persuade Dad to trust him, or even like him. He thinks that because I can't make a decision in that field, where my feelings are so strong, I must be going soft or something. I guess he does have his prejudices, no matter how liberal he tries to be." Scott stopped, he could almost hear Gordon and Alan's mouths hanging open as they guessed at his meaning. He took the plunge,

"I'm going out with Ned Cook."

"He means he's completely and utterly smitten with him, and the feeling's mutual, actually," Virgil said matter-of-factly. Scott smiled involuntarily, listening to the beached cod noises coming from Alan, loud into his headset. There was along pause before Gordon spoke,

"Gee, no wonder Dad was mad. Ned Cook!" The comms link to Thunderbird Two went dead, as if Virgil was about to display his powers of heavy-duty fraternal lecturing, and Scott and Alan were left listening to the sound of each others' breathing.


	11. A Game of Risk

"Ned Cook?" Alan demanded incredulously, a scornful edge to his voice. "Since when have you been…like that?" Scott looked skyward, willing his eyes to stay dry. He really couldn't face this now. Not after the rescue. It was all right for Alan, he'd been warm and dry in the satellite all night. Mind you, he hadn't had the dinner Scott had just had. That thought, silly as it was, buoyed Scott up a little, but all he wanted was to switch off the comms link and enjoy a peaceful trip back to base. However, it was clear that Alan wasn't going to let him.

"Since when?"

"I don't know. I didn't know. It just…well it is. That's all. Does it really matter Alan?" Alan snorted,

"Heck no. You want to do that, you go ahead. So long as I don't have to think about it. But Ned Cook? Honestly Scott, how can you like THAT?"

"What do you mean Alan?" Scott asked quietly. He knew the objections, hell, he'd been through them often enough with himself, but he couldn't believe his brother could be so callous, and while he was grateful that he didn't have to fight Alan about his sexuality, he would have preferred a rather less dismissive point of view.

"He's an idiot. And dangerous. You know what Dad thinks of him. Gordon's right, it's no wonder he was mad at you." In his mind's eye, Scott could picture Alan, slouched in Thunderbird Five's control chair, probably hovering himself all round the monitoring room. He could see the tight pair of furrows between his eyes, the angry patches of red that erupted on his cheeks whenever he flared up like this.

"You don't know him Alan. And that's not what Dad was mad about anyway. Not really. He's angry with me because I guess I haven't got the guts to go with my feelings. I want Ned to come to the island because I don't get to see him enough otherwise, but I can't persuade my rational self that it's safe. Instinct tells me to trust him, but my stupid brain won't go with it, so I won't stand up to Dad. I guess he's not really happy about me being that way anyway, and anything I do wrong is just magnified right now."

"Why should you trust him? He's a lunatic, he gets in trouble all the time, he's obsessive about filming us, getting a story out of everything…" Alan's voice was whiney, childish; being stuck in space didn't suit him, it only emphasised his youth as he got more and more frustrated with being left out of the action back on Earth. He was as professional as any of them on a job, but this reaction…well, it was only what Scott should have expected, he told himself.

"Correction Alan, he was. He's not now. I mean, he's still looking for a story everywhere, but he understands about us now. He's just irresponsible, like you can be sometimes…" That was below the belt and Scott regretted it as soon as he had said it. Okay, it was true enough, but in a different way to the way Alan was bound to take it.

"You're comparing me to that crazy idiot? Dad's right, you've lost it." Scott closed his eyes. This wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to be able to land his craft, get Alan into the cockpit and have a face to face talk, but obviously, that wasn't possible.

"No Alan. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just meant that you don't know him, and the things he does that look really bad aren't actually that bad. He's just thoughtless sometimes, doesn't think things through properly, maybe doesn't consider other people's feelings as much as he should when he's on a job. But he's alright. He's different when he's not chasing a story."

"And how did you find out?" asked Alan, sounding petulant.

"I…well I just got stuck in a cave with him when I was really tired and unable to think straight. He…he came on a bit strong and I couldn't fight him. By the time you turned up, I don't know, I guess I'd had time to find out what he was really like. Look, I know it's not the best thing to find out about your brother, but give me a chance. I don't want to fall out with you. Don't judge Ned till you've met him. That's all I'm asking."

"How can I meet him if Dad won't let him on the island? I can't believe you Scott. If you're going to be difficult and turn out gay, you could at least pick someone decent to go out with." Scott rolled his eyes and shook his head, scratching his hair,

"ALAN! I suggest you shut up now. I really, really want to still be on good terms with you by the time I get home, but you're treading a fine line. Give Ned a chance. Say what you like about me, but take my word that you need to stop prejudging him now. If you want to moan, moan towards Virgil. He seems to have all the answers. He can probably give you better reasons than me for all this. Now, when are you going to reopen that line to Base?"

"Now I guess. You will cover for me won't you? I mean, you're not that mad at me are you?" Scott paused, letting him stew for a while before answering,

"Sure I'll cover for you. You're a Tracy aren't you? Just you remember it." He paused again, he felt dreadful, he couldn't leave things like this,

"Hell, I'm sorry Alan. I didn't mean to bawl you out, but I'm having enough problems with this whole thing, without having you on my neck. I sprung it on you, I know. It wasn't really fair, but you did ask. Just leave it alone. You can come and have a yell at me when you get back from your tour of duty. Okay?" Alan actually laughed; in his head, Scott saw the frown lines fade and the gentle boyish features return,

"Sure Scott. I'm sorry too. Never argue with a man you can't see face to face, that's what Grandma says, and she's right…"

"As always," Scott added. "Reopen that channel then."

"FAB. I'll leave this channel too, I might need you to back me up" Said Alan. Scott waited a moment while Alan fiddled with the panel up in Thunderbird Five. He felt a rush of pride in his brother: yes, he could be hot-headed, but handle him well and he could cool off so fast and with such grace… he heard him call,

"Space station calling base, come…"

"Alan, what happened?" Jeff's voice cut him off.

"We had a loose connection up here Father. I'm sorry it took so long, but I couldn't find the source for a while, then I found that some of the others were loose too and I tightened them up while I was there so we didn't have another blackout. I guess that debris that hit last week must have shaken it more than we thought." Scott grinned at his brother's capacity for lying himself out of trouble. His father sounded fairly convinced,

"Is it all checked out now?"

"Yep. I've been round all the affected circuits and we're sound now. I've checked in with Scott and Virgil and they've been fine. They're on their way back, you'll be able to get them now."

"Okay Alan. I'll talk to you again later, we can't afford blackouts like that, we've been frantic down here. I'm going to talk to Brains, see if we can't get some sort of backup. What did you hear of the rescue?"

"I listened until they'd just decided what they were going to do, then I lost contact."

"They've been on their own for the whole rescue? Hell." Jeff banged his fist on the desk. "Okay. I'll call the others for their position. Well done for fixing it Alan. Out." There was a long pause, then Scott heard his direct comms link to base and drew in a breath. He got the feeling his father would check up on that outage. He could be just a little suspicious of his youngest son at times.

"Base to Thunderbird One, come in Scott."

"Loud and clear Father, am I glad to be back in touch."

"How long have you been out of touch with Alan?"

"A few hours I guess. We were preparing to start the main rescue attempt when we lost contact with him. Luckily our short-range circuits were unaffected. Do you know what it was? I heard some crackling before it happened." Scott felt that a little embroidery couldn't harm Alan's cause.

"Alan says he had a loose connection. I don't know. Brains says it's an unlikely thing to happen and it shouldn't have taken so long to find, but Alan said he repaired some others that were becoming loose. However, that's something to sort out later. Where are you?"

"Not far from home now Father, ETA approximately four minutes."

"Virgil's calling, debrief in the lounge as soon as you've landed."

"FAB." Scott flicked off the link and puffed out his cheeks in relief; at least his father was talking to him fairly civilly.

The island was ahead, a dot in the distance. As he came closer, he eased off on the controls, bringing his Thunderbird round in a wide arc to slow her to a hover over the main complex. The pool was already sliding back as he pushed evenly on the two main controls and the craft pivoted in the air till it was vertical. As he felt the familiar swoop in his stomach of the horizontal jets loosing their anti-gravitational thrust, he kicked in the main jets in his tail and felt the comforting bump and bounce of opposing jet-thrust that let him down into the launch bay as softly as if he had landed on a deflating bouncy castle.  
As Thunderbird One was carried on the trolley back up to her hangar, Scott changed out of his uniform top. He had intended to arrive in the lounge wearing civvies, but the flight back had further swollen his wrenched ankle and he couldn't get it out of his boot. He dragged himself onto the walkway, clinging to the rail for support and emerged into the lounge, dangling from the fittings. His Father looked up briefly from his desk,

"Hmph," he said, not unkindly, and pointed to the couch. Scott glanced over at him and gingerly let go of the wall. His leg crumpled under him as he tried to put weight on it, and he grabbed for the fittings again, his face screwed up in pain. The wall span round at his grasp, still unlocked from his return, and he heard his father's mystified 'Scott?" as he left the room again. He clenched his hands once more and span back into the room. His father was looking at his whirling son with some interest. Scott curled the corner of his mouth in a half-smile,

"I've twisted my ankle or something. Can't walk on it." His father's eye's widened, Scott knew the flurry of calculations of recovery times and probabilities of him being needed on a rescue that were speeding through his father's head as he stood up and came over.

Pulling Scott's right arm around his shoulders, Jeff took his weight as he hopped over to the couch.

"Let's get your boots off." He knelt in front of his son, gripping the heel of the offending boot. Scott felt about five again; far distant memories of having his red rubber boots briskly pulled off by his mother at the end of a walk in the mud. It didn't make him feel any better as a bolt of pain fired up his leg. He winced and involuntarily pulled his leg away. His father looked into his eyes as he pulled off the other boot. What was he looking for? Weakness?

Brains came back into the room and looked at the scene,

"E-everything o-okay?" he asked.

"You'd better take a look at this ankle after the debrief Brains, Scott thinks it's just twisted, but I want you to check. How did it happen Scott?"

"It was right at the end, I had to wrap a rope round to steady myself and I got thrown off balance. I'll explain when I tell you the rest." Jeff pursed his lips disapprovingly, it sounded avoidable from where he was, but he'd wait. He'd promised himself that he'd keep calm and focus on normality. He certainly didn't want a repeat of the earlier scene. If he'd only known, he would have called Scott to his room, where he could close the door and get a bit of privacy. Still, no point looking back.

"Okay. I want to know everything, as soon as your brothers get back."

Out of the great windows that looked out to sea, Scott could see Thunderbird Two on her final approach, slowing towards a majestic halt, out of sight down on the runway.

"Five minutes later the soft hum of machinery preceded the arrival of the passenger lift and Virgil, John and Gordon. They had all changed out of their uniforms and they came to sit with Scott in front of their father.

"How's your foot Scott?" asked Virgil.

"Swelled up on the flight back, Dad had to get my boots off for me. Brains is going to check it over for me in a minute. It'll be alright."

"Okay, that's enough," said Jeff, "I want to know exactly what went on out there." Scott started to explain the details of the rescue, first their arrival and an outline of the situation, then the failed line attempts.

"You lost two lines? They must have been your best chance. How did it happen that you lost them both?"

"I couldn't get close enough. I tried, it was bad luck really that they caught on things, otherwise I would have reeled them in and tried again. Honestly Sir, I did everything I could think of to make them successful."

"He did Father," Virgil affirmed, "Thunderbird One could get in a lot closer than Two, but the wind was just so strong and unpredictable, the lines were too thin to resist. The rope only worked because it was heavy enough as a coil to fly fairly straight."

"The rope? Go on then Scott."

Scott explained the idea he'd had and its execution. His father's face was growing redder as he listened, it was clear that he was using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from interrupting. When Scott eventually finished, relating how he had hurt his ankle and got back into Thunderbird One and away from the building, Jeff stood up. He could not stay seated.

"You should never have done it Scott. Why didn't you tell me what you meant to do?"

"We were cut off," Gordon said indignantly, best acting skills to the fore.

"I heard you'd decided what to do by the time you were cut off. I didn't get a single update after John called in to say you'd arrived. A plan like that…it was foolhardy. Thunderbird One is not built as a climbing frame. Those wings are her weakest point under flexion. At the very least, she should have been flown by a competent pilot." Scott cut across,

"Gordon flew her perfectly, he did a fantastic job."

"We went through this at the time Father," Virgil added, "Scott didn't want to put anyone else's life on the line with his plan, and Gordon was the only other available, and he's not up to that sort of work, you know he isn't."

"It was a dangerous plan. The whole craft might have been thrown off balance and crashed, it would have killed you all if it exploded."

"But it didn't," Scott said, quietly. "We saved every person in that building Father. How else were we meant to do it? I asked the others at the time and they couldn't think of anything, so we went with my idea. It was so important to decide quickly."

"You should have asked me. I'd never have let you do it."

"What would you have suggested?"

"I don't know, I'd have to think about it. You'd have to tell me more about the conditions."

"Exactly! There wasn't the time I knew you'd need. By the time you had an idea, we'd have lost every last one of those kids. By the end, Gordon was holding up the building. You always say that the risk is part of the job. Well, we took the risk. It's too late now, but it paid off."

"It was stupid. There's risk and there's risk. You hazarded all your lives and Thunderbird One, our means of rescuing people, when the result was unlikely to be good."

"I can't believe this." Virgil was on his feet. "Father, you are contradicting everything you usually tell us. Lives before machinery; other people's lives, especially children's, before our own; take the only option left, even if it's dangerous, rather than abandon them. What's different about today? I know what's different. You're mad at Scott, and I know why, and I don't think it's fair, and I don't think it's right, and I know that if you weren't so incapable of backing down, you'd be patting Scott on the back and telling him what a great job he'd done and well done for taking the risk and saving those kids, because that's what we're here for. We could have kept you informed, but Scott knew that today you wouldn't trust his judgement, and he was right. If he'd told you and got an order back, we'd have flown home miserable, no lives saved. I don't care if you're mad at me now, I won't have you persecuting Scott. Either tell him he can or can't have Ned here outright, or leave him be and stop imagining this great change in him, because only you can see it, and it's only a reflection. Excuse me." Virgil left the room. Jeff was left with his hands on his desk, fuming. He took a breath and muttered,

"Debrief over, go and get that wretched foot sorted out, then go to bed."

John and Gordon were sitting petrified on either side of Scott, seemingly unable to move. Scott could hear Gordon's breath coming through tight nostrils, uneven and shaky. He patted John on the knee,

"Help me walk?" he asked very quietly. John nodded silently, Brains was already on his way across the room, eyes wide behind his glasses. Together they heaved Scott up from the couch and with an arm round each of their shoulders, he swung out of the lounge and down the corridor. Gordon ran past them, heading for the pool.

In the medical area, Brains examined Scott's foot while John paced up and down, not saying a word. At length, Brains spoke,

"W-well, i-it appears to be just a very bad twist, though I-I think you've, er, torn the muscle slightly. There's a p-possible hairline fracture, b-but it's p-pretty hard to tell, your feet are such a-a mess of old s-scars." Scott grinned back as Brains raised his eyebrows, smirking slightly as he bound up the foot,

"I-I suggest you k-keep off it for a couple of weeks, s-see how it, er, feels."

"Thanks Brains," said Scott, "Can I have some crutches? I don't want to spend the next few weeks waiting to be carried around." John looked up,

"You're sounding pretty happy with things." Scott shot him a look,

"I've got to be. Wait." Brains looked from one to the other,

"D-don't mind me. I-if you want m-my opinion, I-I would say A-Alan should have tried something a little more, uh, convincing. Your Father only j-just believes him. I started to t-tell him it was i-impossible, before I realised what m-might be going on. I b-backtracked a little for you, b-but I'm afraid I-I'm not a very good er, liar." The other two stared at him,

"You lied for us?"

"S-sure John. I guessed something was up, though I still don't know what. M-Mr Tracy's been very agitated lately and I was s-sure you wouldn't want it m-made worse."

"It's impossible for those connections to come loose?"

"Absolutely Scott. The, er, main circuitry for the connection with base is made up of er, sealed modules, each welded into place. Th-there are no joints to loosen. They blow very occasionally, but it u-usually means sending up a replacement part"

"Does Dad know that?"

"In theory, yes. But I think I convinced him o-otherwise, for the moment. I-if he checks, I-I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Didn't you know that John?"

"I knew, but I was hoping it wouldn't come up. Dad didn't take too big a part in the designs for that area. I fitted a lot of the circuitry for the link with Brains. You never did that bit, did you Scott?" Scott shook his head,

"I worked mostly on the monitoring circuits, so did Alan. They're all joints and bits of looped wire. Probably because we built them." He gave a facial shrug. "Well, I'm going to go and check on Virgil, see if I can sort out this mess I've got him into. Thanks Brains." Brains handed him a pair of crutches and Scott hopped off down the corridor, as confident as he was on two feet: well, you don't get scarred foot-bones like that without learning some useful skills…

As he opened the door to Virgil's room, the sounds of outside carried from the open window. Regular rough splashes revealed that Gordon was thrashing his problems out in the pool as always: fast regular lengths. That so much splashing could be heard suggested that he was not in the best of moods. At his best, he could barely be heard as he sliced through the water in perfect lines.

Virgil was not in his room, but on the balcony outside, leaning his rough chin on his hands and the railing. Scott leant next to him, leaning his crutches against the rail. His brother turned his head, twitching the corners of his mouth in greeting.

"How's the foot?"

"Might be a crack in it, but probably just a bit stretched. You alright?"

"Mmph. I'm going to go and talk to Dad in a minute. I just needed to cool off a bit first." He paused, rubbing his stubbly chin on his knuckles. "Better shave too." Again, the twitch. "I'm sorry Scott. I don't think I helped your cause very much. I just couldn't let him say that. I love Dad, but he can be so pig-headed sometimes. He's worse than Alan. How did Alan take it by the way?"

"Not so well, but I think I talked him round a bit. At least, he was happier by the time he called off. Same opinion as Dad I guess: not so much what as who."

"Gordon's alright. I told him not to hassle you. I said you had enough problems. But I think he genuinely doesn't…well, I don't think it means anything to him. But he won't tease you for the hell of it now." He pushed himself up and went back into the room. Scott grabbed his crutches and followed. While Virgil shaved, Scott sat on the bed, pulling at the covers. The false cheeriness he had assumed for Brains' benefit had all leaked away now and he was glad to be with Virgil, who knew.

"Thanks for sticking up for me Virg."

"No pwoh'bum," Virgil replied, his mouth screwed to one side.

"You're not to let him get at you for it. It's my fault, not yours." He waited while Virgil finished, rubbing at his own chin which also needed seeing to. As Virgil patted off his face, Scott asked,

"Have you seen Grandma? Only she must be pretty confused. I bet Dad hasn't explained that little scene to her. Brains doesn't know what's going on."

"No. Haven't seen her. We'd better sort this out soon Scott. It's wretched for everyone."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not you. Full stop. I'm going to see Dad now. Want a game later? I'll probably need it after this."

"Sure. I'm going to shave and take a nap, I forgot I didn't sleep last night. Wake me for lunch if I'm not up?" Virgil nodded and left the room.

Virgil walked quickly to the lounge, his face set. His father was not there. Returning quickly along the corridor, he came to a door and knocked,

"Who is it?"

"Virgil. I want to talk to you. Please." A pause, then the door was unlocked and opened. Virgil stepped inside and his father shut the door behind him.

Jeff looked tired. He went back to his chair and sank into it as if he would never get out of it again. Virgil stood in front of him, ignoring the chair to his left.

"Father, I wanted to apologise for earlier. I should never have said that, particularly not in front of the others." Jeff shook his head. Virgil went on, "But I had to say something. It, it wasn't fair, what you said. I know it's not my place to say, this is largely between you and Scott, but I know you don't like being opposed to him. He's out there doing his damned best for you, and you…I'm not blind Dad, I could tell you were proud of us all out there, don't deny it, I could see it clearly. You've just given your opinion once and you're not willing to lose face by backing off. I…I'm sorry." Virgil looked at his father whose gaze had sunk to his lap, and sat down at last. Jeff looked up again,

"Finished?" he asked, without a trace of emotion. Virgil nodded guiltily, "Right. Okay, I was proud of you today, for what you achieved. I won't deny it. But I still think the way it was done was stupid. Okay, maybe it was the only way, and maybe on another day I'd have okayed it, but I think the way it was handled was not good. I'm going to talk to Scott, he should have told me, he knows that. If you're all going to be in that much danger, I need to know. I'm not convinced about the space station, I guess Brains was trying to cover for Alan, but I'm pretty sure that sort of fault is not possible with the circuits we installed. If I'm right then Alan lied to me, probably under direct or implied orders from Scott or you. I don't like to think my boys are lying to me, no matter what the reason. Scott knows why I'm not happy with him at the moment and I guess he's told you, since you said you knew. You need to understand that this is not a case of being bull-headed, Virgil, this is a case of a father trying to do what's best for his son. I know it may not look like it, but Scott needs to make up his own mind on this. If he can make a decision, I'll forget that any of this ever happened; if he can't, I don't see how I could change my mind now. I've stated my position, that's how it is. You know that. It's just the same as 'time for bed' or 'no TV till your homework is done' when you were younger. I'll forget you said anything. I understand your point of view, but the answer is no. Go and get some sleep. That's what I'm going to do." Virgil nodded,

"Okay Dad. Take it easy." He left the room, feeling little better than he had when he went in, and went back to his own room. Scott was still there, lying fast asleep on the bed. His crutches dangled from his arms as if he had started to leave before sleep overtook him, and he was still unshaven. Virgil pulled away the crutches, threw a spare blanket over his legs, placed a pillow under his head and pulled the chair over to rest his feet on so he wouldn't strain his back. Scott did not stir as Virgil left the room and went to catch some sleep in Scott's bed.

"Ready?" Virgil asked as Scott came into the lounge. Lunch was over, Jeff had gone to check over supplies inventories with Brains and Gordon was back in the pool with Tin-Tin, floating on lilos till their lunch went down and they could continue the tenth match in a 'best of thirty-one' aquatic ball game tournament they'd invented.

"Blue, please," Scott said. Virgil took the blue, yellow and pink pieces out of the Risk box,

"You are so predictable," he said, laughing as he started to deal the cards.

"I am? Yellow and Pink? Talk about predictable. I take it John's playing?"

"It could just as well be the dummy."

"Except that you always play the dummy as black. Where is he?"

"On his way. He was just calling up to Alan for the latest reports on his asteroid." Scott grinned. The cheeriness on both sides was slightly forced, but it felt better than moping around. It felt more Tracyish. John came in, arms swinging happily, Scott looked up,

"How's the asteroid?"

"Still there, it's following a perfect ellipse still, constant velocity, slight change in magnitude. Alan thinks it's got a really slow spin on it. I think maybe it was in collision with something, that's why it's turned up now. I can't wait to get back and look for myself." Scott and Virgil looked at each other, eyebrows jumping; neither of them could quite share John's enthusiasm, but his good mood was infectious.

"Great," said Virgil, "You're pink." They laid out their pieces.

"How did it go with Dad?" Scott asked Virgil as they threw to start.

"Depends who you are. I'm not in trouble, which I guess is a good thing. Neither are you really, any more. I think he's hoping it will blow over without him having to do anything. He's not backing down and he still managed to make me feel bad about suggesting he should. He's gong to have a chat with you later about the advisability of telling him when we're about to die. It's up to you. If I could persuade you to not be Scott, we'd be laughing. I'm going to attack Brazil with two from Argentina." Scott screwed up his nose. He only had two in Brazil.

"I knew I'd get it in the neck for that. Do you think he's right?" Virgil threw a six and a one, Scott threw a five and a two,

"One each!" said John triumphantly, being a believer in long, drawn out games,

"What? That we shouldn't have done it? No. He doesn't even think he's right. You'd never get him to admit it though. Brazil with three from Peru." They threw and Scott's tiny Brazilian force fell to the might of three little pieces of yellow plastic.

Two and half hours later, the board was frighteningly pink. John sat back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face, drawing himself extra tokens on bits of paper, as Virgil and Scott frantically tried to maintain their grip on Asia and South America.

"That's a five," John said lazily as Scott tried to get him to exchange a piece for a five and three ones in response to a battle he had just lost.

"Well, it should be a ten, you gave it to me as part of that bundle earlier when I actually had armies, and they were all meant to be tens. I counted them."

"Do you believe him Virgil?" asked John,

"No, but better humour him. He's going to lose anyway."

"You reckon?" asked Scott, determinedly. John nodded violently and handed him the pieces he'd asked for. By the middle of John's go, Scott was out, his remaining blue pieces swept dramatically aside into the Atlantic.

"Okay, so you were right. Well, I'd love to stay and draw out more pieces for John, but I'm just in time to catch a programme I rather want to see, so if you'll excuse me…" As he left the room, John was launching a surprise attack around the back of the board on Virgil's poorly defended Kamchatka.

The door closed. Virgil picked up the blue dice and looked at his watch.

"The Ned Cook Show," he said, and looked up at John. John nodded and threw three sixes,

"How are we going to sort this out? I wouldn't usually interfere, but this is stupid," said John. Virgil put down the un-thrown dice and cleared his troops from the far east of Asia,

"I had an idea, tell me what you think. I was wondering, even if Dad's being idiotic about not letting Scott have leave still, it's his birthday coming up, you'll be back on duty by then, but maybe that will force Dad to let one of us go with Scott to the mainland like we always do. If we did, I could arrange for Ned to meet us there. Sure, Scott wouldn't get to spend much time alone with him, if I know Dad he'll be checking we're together the whole time, but I was thinking: if I called Dad while we were there, told him we were bringing Ned back to the island and that it was entirely my idea, nothing to do with Scott, we might get a result."

"He'll still go crazy at Scott, or you."

"He won't. Not at Scott, I'll make sure of it. I'm not even going to tell Scott my plan, well, I'll tell him we're meeting Ned, but not the other bit. I'll tell Ned, obviously, but not Scott. What he doesn't know, he can't be blamed for, and he can't stop me doing."

"Dad'll stop you doing it. How do you think forcing him is going to make him change his mind?"

"He won't be able to stop me. What's he going to do? Forbid us to land on the island? Come on John, he couldn't do a thing. Okay, maybe it will be a bit awkward, it doesn't solve the problem of Scott not having the resolve to do it himself, but it does force Dad to meet Ned and gets over that initial hurdle. I'm willing to take what I get for it." John was pointing out countries, attacking and winning. With one final flourish, he replaced Virgil's final piece with a rather elegant drawing of a spinning pink asteroid with 'five' marked beneath it. "You with me?" asked Virgil.

"If you really think it'll work, sure. I'm not convinced it will, but I don't want to come back next month and find things are still like this."

"Right. I'll call Ned and tell him. I guess he'll have to fit it in around his work, but I get the idea he can get a bit of flexibility. Well played, John. I will thrash you next time." John rolled his tongue around his mouth.

"Yeah, sure Virgil. I'm going to go and catch the end of the show, take a look at what it is we're missing here." He left Virgil to pack up the game and went to find Scott. He was in his room, door open, sitting on the end of the bed, watching the small television, set into the wall. His face was unreadable, but he didn't notice John come in. He jumped slightly as he sat down next him,

"Oh! Hi John. Achieved world domination?"

"Yep. I left Virgil licking his wounds. What are you watching?"

"The Ned Cook Show," said Scott, looking straight at the screen. His voice was steady, but it was clear that this was a mixed pleasure. The current item finished and Ned bounded back into view. All the time he was on screen, Scott was immobile, seemingly terrified of showing any emotion. John sat next to him, looking for what it was that Scott liked so much. Just occasionally, he could see it, blazing through as the camera pulled away from Ned, a split-second as he heard something through his earpiece or let his mind wander for a second while everyone was concentrating on an act. Now the show was coming to and end, Ned was doing his final piece to camera, Scott's hands were gripping his knees,

"Well folks, that wraps it up for tonight's show. It's been fab to present you with such a great programme. Here's Ned's little tip of the week, for all you guys and gals out there who have a birthday coming up soon: don't make everyone guess, tell them what you want. The world has enough novelty socks; this year, make a stand for good presents. That's a message I've had from several people, and is especially to buck up ST. I guess you know who you are. And with that, Ladies and Gentlemen, Goodnight." Rapturous applause, a stare straight into camera that turned Scott vaguely red, and the credits rolled.

"ST?" John asked, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, I know. So I'm already getting told off on international TV. I should never have told him it was coming up." John caught his eye and winked,

"Does it make you feel better? Watching him?"

"I guess so. Maybe not. Sometimes it doesn't feel real any more, can you understand that?"

"Sure. You talk to him plenty though?"

"Nearly every day. But you know what that's like well enough. Somehow it's not the same, and it doesn't necessarily leave you feeling all that good. Oh heck, it doesn't matter to you. It would be better if Dad would let me go and see him though."

"Hmm." John looked pensive, "Virgil's going to try to arrange for you to meet up with Ned for dinner when you're over on the mainland for your birthday. If one of us goes with you, Father has to let you go."

"Good idea," said Scott distractedly, his mind clearly still back with the show. John noted the manner, it was so unlike Scott to answer anything without careful consideration.

"I'll tell him you like the idea." He got up and left Scott sitting on the bed.

Virgil waited as the connection to Ned's studio was made. He had managed to get the number after a lot of persuasion on his part that he should make the arrangements rather than Scott. A woman answered and he spoke,

"Would it be possible to speak to Ned Cook Please?"

"Who is it calling?"

"Scott's brother." He thought this was probably the best answer to gain access to the famed reporter/presenter.

"I'll see if he's available, hold please." Virgil waited as the hold music cut in. He thought it sounded vaguely familiar, but it took him a while to work out that it was piece he played regularly on the piano. The removal of every nuance of feeling or rhythm had rendered it almost unrecognisable. Mercifully, the call was soon reopened, the woman was back,

"He'll take it in his office, putting you through." A click and a pause, then Ned's voice,

"Hello? Who is that?"

"It's Virgil, Scott's brother."

"Oh. Right, um, is everything okay?"

"Yes, nothing's wrong." Virgil hastened to reassure him, "It was just, with Scott's birthday coming up, I was wondering if it would be okay with you to meet up for dinner or something. If you're free that is."

"Sure. But I, um, I thought your father wouldn't let him have leave?" Ned's voice had a note of dejection in it,

"He's been a bit difficult, yes. But we always come to the mainland for birthdays, always. A couple of us will have to come and stick with Scott, but if we don't tell Dad we're meeting you, he can't very well say no."

"Fourth of April. I'm meant to record the show that day, but I could rearrange it. Unless you come along? I don't really want to have to explain to the whole team that I've changed their hours, so how about you come and watch the show, or come along after if you don't want to watch. Then we can get a meal afterwards. I'd say come earlier, but rehearsals and all that are a real bore. You can have a tour afterwards."

"Okay, we'll come and see it. Scott's not likely to want to miss it. Look, there's another thing. This is an absolute secret from Scott, you must not tell him."

"What?"

"What are you doing the day after the show?"

"Nothing I can't cancel. Why?"

"I was wondering, would you be able to come back to base with us?"

"What? Hey buddy, Scott would be in so much trouble, I couldn't…"

"No, I'm going to call ahead and make sure I get all the blame. I know the problem, I'm living with it. Scott and my father are as bad as each other and you are never going to get that invite unless it's from me or John. I'll take the rap, I just need to get you there. Once you've arrived, Dad can at least talk to you. It'll be too late, security-wise. If we tell Scott he'll force us not to, because he's Scott. It's a little underhand, but I'm not living like this for the next however many years, it's like living on a volcano. What do you say?"

"I'll do it if you promise Scott's not going to take any blame for it."

"I promise."

"Okay, you're on. I'll put seats aside for you. How many?"

"Three. It'll probably be me and Gordon with him. John will be back up in Space and Alan…Alan tends to get the short straw. He'll get it this time because he's the one most likely to blow things."

"Right, three seats it is. Uh, thanks bud, this means a lot. Just so as you know if I forget to mention it again, I'm really grateful." Virgil's eyebrows hit the roof. This guy was okay. He really was. Hell, of course he was, Scott loved him.

"Oh… No problem. We'll just turn up then?"

"Yep, I'll leave the tickets at the box office. Say you're Scott's party as guests of Ned Cook and they'll let you in. Do you want me to get us a reservation for dinner somewhere?"

"Sure, if you know somewhere."

"Right. See you on the fourth then. Doors open at about four-thirty, show starts around five, then it's as long as it takes, though we try to do it in one take as far as possible. I'll send someone to fetch you back afterwards, so stay put till they find you."

"Okay. See you then. Bye Ned."

"See you Virgil." The call ended and Virgil got up. As he walked past his father's office, he could hear the faint sounds of an argument inside. It seemed that Jeff had finally cornered his eldest son about the communication problem. He walked on to the lounge, sat at the piano and played. The rendition was a thousand times removed from its hold-music counterpart, and Virgil stared into space, lost in thought.

A couple of weeks had gone by, John was back up on the space station and Alan was home. The first day or two had been a little tense. He had definitely avoided meeting Scott alone when he might get roped into a discussion about his views, but after a while his natural gregariousness took over and Scott was careful not to say anything that might rouse his brother's hot temper once more.  
Tonight, however, was going shake Alan's good mood.

It was the third of April and when the four brothers were sat in the lounge relaxing, their father at his desk as usual, Scott noticed that he was getting looks from Virgil and John that said, 'Ahem! Now Scott, ask him.'

"Father…"

"Yes, Scott."

"Will it be alright for me to go to the mainland tomorrow for my birthday as usual, if nothing turns up on the rescue front."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Just out for dinner somewhere. A nightclub afterwards maybe? I don't know. Just a bit of fun." Jeff pursed his lips. He really didn't have an excuse to stop Scott going. In fact, he found he didn't want to stop him going. But a warning bell still sounded in his head, unbidden.

"You'll be going with your brothers of course? I want you all to stick together at all times. No wandering off. If you need to get back here quickly because of an emergency call, I don't want you separated to start with." This was nothing to do with it of course. They all had their comms watches and they'd always be as far from their transport as the person who had gone furthest, but it sounded reasonable.

"Sure Dad."

"Who's staying behind? I'm not having you all traipsing off, someone's got to be here for the rapid response. Alan, you'd better not go." Scott would have covered his ears at this point, if it had been polite, though inwardly he was sighing with relief. Alan was definitely not the person he wanted along to have dinner with Ned Cook. He'd probably misconstrue something and knock the poor guy out. He was very glad his father had made the decision for him.

"Why is it always me?" Alan's whine achieved siren levels, firing round the room with the effectiveness of an ambulance in a cul-de-sac at night. His father winced and looked at him with irritation. It is you Alan. You're the second rapid response pilot. It's Scott's birthday, otherwise he'd take his turn. It's also you, until you learn that you get plenty of time out when the others stay here, and it is not appropriate behaviour to moan about it." Alan got up, beaten, and flounced off to his room.

"You may go with Virgil and Gordon, Scott, but I want you all back here before morning, I don't want you staying out overnight, it's too risky. Are you going in the jets?"

"Tin-Tin said we could borrow Ladybird and Virgil's going to take the JT."

"Okay. What time will you leave?"

"Sometime in the morning, if that's okay. We'll get in a bit of sightseeing too."

"Right. I'm trusting you to behave yourselves. Don't let me down." Virgil shot a look at John, neither Scott nor their father noticed.

Getting from the airstrip into town had been easy. They had soon located the studio building and had a few hours to spare wandering around the shops and museums. Gordon bought Scott a new pair of shades, having failed to come up with anything else to get him for his birthday. At four-thirty, they entered the studio building, got their tickets and were shown to their seats, on the end of a row, towards the back of the block of seating. The warm-up rolled over Scott in a cloud of unimportance, while his brothers laughed heartily at the tried and tested jokes being fired from the stage. Then the producer explained how things worked before the title music played and Ned bounded on. Time performed that funny little trick that makes you question its constancy, and although every second of the show stamped its mark in Scott's brain, it seemed barely a count of ten before he was applauding its conclusion with the others; Gordon whooping and whistling beside him, Virgil clapping more soberly, but still smiling broadly, while Scott smiled, and clapped, and felt his mouth go dry.  
The audience was clearing, but as requested, the three of them stayed where they were. As the last people waited in the aisle to leave, a girl in her early twenties, with unruly blonde hair and two clipboards came up to them,

"You Scott's party?"

"That's right," answered Scott, unsticking his throat.

"Great! I'm Mandy. If you'll come with me, Ned says to show you straight to his dressing room. He said you could go right in, but maybe the other two guys would like a tour first?"

"Sure. Love to," said Virgil quickly, before Gordon could speak.

"Okay. Great! Follow me, I'll drop you off at Ned's room, and then I'll show you two round. I guess you've seen it before have you?" she asked Scott. He shook his head. She smiled, caught out for a second,

"Oh…Well, he must need to speak to you urgently I guess. I expect he'll show you round later." She stopped outside a door with Ned's name printed on a piece of card that had clearly been stuck there for some time. "Here we are." She knocked. There was no answer. She pushed the door and it opened. Poking her head around the door, she looked round. Then she turned back to Scott. "I think he's in the bathroom. You go right on in, he'll be with you in a minute. I'll show these guys round and bring them back here in a while. Okay?" Scott nodded. "Great!" she said, and swept off, pulling Virgil and Gordon in her wake.

Scott entered the room. The door closed behind him and he smelt the scent of Ned in the air. He closed his eyes, breathing the smell that told his brain about rightness and contentment and…

There was a hand on his shoulder, feeling like a conduit of comfort; the feeling flowed out of it, ran across his back, up into his head, soothing and calming. Then there was another, a soft touch, snaking under his arm and sliding warm and firm to the centre of his back. The tip of his big toe felt the nudge of another foot through the shoe.

More contact.

A length of warm thigh through two layers of sliding material,

the tender grip of arm round upper body,

elbow crooking as if it were made to fit just round Scott's ribs.

Then the hot glow of abdomen,

beating heart,

steady breaths,

the heat of the studio still radiating back out,

the rhythms of living flesh pressed against Scott's thin top, resonating with his own.

Neck touching neck,

grip on shoulder tightening.

His own hands finding the ridges and curves of clothed back, just damp with the heat.

Pulling tighter,

eyes closed,

nose buried in short hair behind an ear.

Pulling tighter.

His brain was singing with heat and belonging and the importance of the moment. Now cannot end. Keep your eyes closed. It lasts for just this long.

And he knew he must stop and he eased his grip, but there was no reciprocal easing, an imperceptible tightening if anything.

And he gripped once more.

His father's voice was calling far away in his head. Something about duty, something about behaving like a man, like an officer, like a…and he pushed it away.

Cheek on sweating neck, which moved, till lips were by his ear and touched the soft skin just there,

soft,

harder,

harder,

almost a kiss,

but so, so important, that it was something else.

And there was no logic left.

No reason to feel like this with something so relatively new and untried.

Being hugged after having his red rubber boots pulled off after a walk in the mud. Playing over and over in the blackness behind his eyelids.

But now he would have to give up, he was falling, his sense of balance and position lost in the darkness of panic-shut eyes.

His grip loosened,

he opened his eyes.

Reflex caused Ned to do the same. Steady breaths as eyes met eyes for the first time that day, and held as tight as the hands still resting on back and waist. Ned blinked slowly, and grinned.

"Enjoy the show?"

Scott nodded and grinned back,

"Boy, I've missed you," he said. A beat. Then a mischievous twinkle crept into Scott's eyes,

"Did you book a table for dinner? I could eat a horse."


	12. How Can This Be?

Scott lost track of time as he kissed Ned, happiness surging through him as he ignored the nagging little voice in the back of his head that said, 'you've got to go home in a few hours, it ain't gonna last buddy…'. In moments, it seemed, there was a knock at the door and when Ned called 'come in', a blonde whirlwind entered, closely followed by Virgil and Gordon, both looking slightly shell-shocked. She smiled cheerily at Ned, nodded to Scott, then put her hand on the door to exit,

"I gave these guys a tour Ned I'm off now see you next week yeah?"

"Right Mandy. Thanks. Have a good weekend."

"I will, see you guys bye." She flew from the room, shutting the door behind her. Ned laughed at the looks on Virgil and Gordon's faces,

"Good tour? She's an er, interesting guide, isn't she?" Virgil allowed his eyes to close a little, so that the whites were no longer visible all the way round,

"She's pretty energetic. Is she always that enthusiastic?"

"Oh yes. Good to have on the team, works really hard. And you won't catch anyone being miserable round her. Could possibly do with using 'Great' less often…"

"Oh, I don't know. I only heard it about fifty times…"

"She's amazing," piped up Gordon, "What I'd give for energy like that on my team…"

"Right Gordon. Shame you work with such a lethargic bunch of colleagues huh?" Scott tried for biting sarcasm, but he was just too happy and it came out rather comically. He batted away any reply with his hand and turned to Ned,

"Well, did you book that table?"

"Sure. One birthday boy table on me at Mr Edward's in…three-quarters of an hour." Scott's face fell and he looked at his watch. "I'd give you your present now, but I don't have it. I had to order and it didn't arrive. I'm sorry." Virgil sat down and looked at Ned,

"I'd have waited till he had his dinner in front of him before I told him that."

"I don't like to keep people waiting. I'm sorry, but the show can take longer to do than this, I didn't want to book too early and miss our slot. It'll take twenty minutes to get there anyway. Want the Ned Cook Show tour while you're waiting? I know you two have already had one tour, but you might actually see something, long enough for it to register if I take you round, and Scott hasn't seen it."

"Yeah, it was a bit whistle-stop," said Virgil.

"It was okay," said Gordon.

Ned took them round the studio. He showed them the scenery dock, the cameras, the sound and lighting set-ups and the corridor lined with photos of some of the acts and stories he'd had on the show. After about twenty minutes, he brought them back to his dressing room.

"You alright Scott? You look like you're limping a bit?"

"Oh, it's fine, I twisted it badly on a rescue a couple of weeks back. I only got off the crutches a couple of days ago."

"You wouldn't have coped so well on Mandy's tour. She went four times the speed," said Virgil.

"She's a busy girl. I enjoyed her tour," said Gordon. Virgil looked at him hard, but Gordon was gazing at the photos on Ned's dressing table. A few famous faces peered out from behind the mirror, a face in the top left could easily be a member of his family, judging by the features, and down in the bottom right was a photo of Scott. It was tiny, Gordon recognised it as having been cut off one of the smaller copies of the latest Christmas family portrait. Trust Scott, he thought to himself: complete lack of vanity, plus irrational objection to having his photo taken, equalled very few photos of him lying around. He always looked vaguely uncomfortable in the portraits his father commissioned from time to time. In fact, the best photos Gordon reckoned you could get of Scott were stills off the little camera that recorded cockpit activity for Thunderbird One's black box. But Scott wouldn't have thought of that when asked for a photo.

"Shall we go then?" asked Ned, moving to the door.

"Yes," said Scott firmly, and looked meaningfully at Ned as his stomach rumbled loudly.

They walked to the restaurant and were seated immediately. Dinner was a happy, carefree affair, Scott and Ned still on the high of being together again, Virgil happy to see his brother back on track and Gordon mysteriously thrilled with everything.

As Scott polished off the last of his second dessert: an apple pie which, he announced, would perhaps almost make it, if presented in the right way, to almost the level of greatness of Grandma's home-cooked version; he sat back in his chair and sighed,

"That was a delicious dinner. Thanks Ned."

"My pleasure entirely. So, what do you guys want to do now?"

"Well, I'm going to the bathroom before I do anything else," said Virgil, and he got up and walked over to the door in the corner of the restaurant which showed a rather elaborate 'Gents' sign with a line drawing of an Edwardian Gentleman in a tailcoat and top-hat. The others lapsed naturally into a comfortable, post-prandial sort of silence, Gordon making origami shapes with his napkin that fell to bits as he lifted them into the air. Ned's foot was nudging gently at the side of Scott's leg, and Scott was almost asleep, half wishing he had held back on that second pudding.

In the toilets, Virgil checked that all the cubicles were empty and that no-one was on their way in, before nipping into a cubicle and locking the door. He brought his wrist close to his face.

"Calling International Rescue," he said softly. There was a pause, then his watch flicked into life,

"Go ahead Virgil," said his father, "What's up?" Virgil squirmed uncomfortably on the cold, hard lid of the toilet. He didn't really want to do this, but it was the only way he could think of.

"I just wanted to let you know that I made a decision. It's entirely my own idea, at this moment Scott knows absolutely nothing about it, because I know he'd stop me if he did. That's why I'm calling from a toilet cubicle."

"What are you talking about Virgil?" His father sounded confused, but guarded, as if he suspected…

"I'm bringing Ned Cook back to the island with us when we come home later."

"No Virgil. You are not."

"Sorry Father. I arranged for us to meet him for dinner and told him my plan. His first answer was no, because he knew Scott would get into trouble over it. That's why I'm doing it."

"Virgil, you are not bringing him here, that's an order." Virgil drew a deep breath. He had really been hoping his father wouldn't say that. It was so deeply ingrained in him not to disobey a direct order, that to do so was almost unthinkable. Almost.

"Okay. Put me down for a court martial next week, because I have to ignore that order. If you knew how hard it is for me to do that, you'd get an idea of how strongly I feel about this." Virgil stopped. He could see his father pacing in and out of his view. But he didn't seem to be quite as angry as Virgil had expected. His voice was still calm, if a little tense when he spoke,

"I forbid it. However, as you are no doubt aware, there is very little I can currently do to stop you, short of forbidding you permission to land, and I have no doubt you will return with too little fuel to allow me to reasonably do that. I will be expecting a full explanation of this behaviour when you return. I will consider what to do with you and any unwanted visitors at that point. I am disappointed in you Virgil. Over and out." The line was cut and Virgil sat with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. His throat was dry and he felt vaguely nauseous. What would his father do? He could not remember any time when any of them had disobeyed a direct order so shamelessly to his face. They never disobeyed direct orders, it simply wasn't an option. But the others would wonder where he was. He got up, flushed the toilet out of habit, washed his hands and went back to the table.

"D'yuh…" He swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his throat, "Do you want to go home now, or do something else first?" Scott looked at him, horrified,

"I'm not going home yet Virg. I've had barely two and a half hours with Ned."

"Um…" said Ned, looking to Virgil for a cue, Virgil nodded and spoke again,

"Scott, I just called Dad, we're going to take Ned back to base with us." Scott froze. A completely incomprehensible mishmash of emotions and queries were suddenly speeding through his head. It was the most incredible birthday present, just what he'd wanted, but it filled him with a dread fear worse than any he'd ever experienced during a rescue. He looked straight into Virgil's eyes,

"Dad said yes?" Virgil looked away. He could not lie to Scott, not after the insubordination he'd just pulled on his father.

"Not exactly. But he knows it's nothing to do with you."

Scott's stomach was turning over and over. Now he definitely wished he'd given the apple pie a miss. How could he refuse something he wanted so much when the man it involved was right next to him, when he could feel the ache of wanting tonight to go on and on? But how could he accept, knowing that his father would consider it the most grave offence, knowing that his brother would be in terrible trouble, that Ned would probably be whisked straight back off the island, as soon as the plane refuelled, and that even if his father bent enough to allow Ned on the island, it would be at the expense of some of his pride in backing down on the conditions he had set for that privilege? Scott simply could not bring himself to be the one to hurt that pride. It was what made his father great, if a little overbearing on occasion.

"Virgil, we can't," he almost whispered.

"Yep. That's what I knew you'd say, which is why it's already decided. It's nothing to do with you at this point. I'm sorry if it upsets the end of your birthday a little bit, but I think it's worth it. We'll give it a go. I think it might work. If it doesn't, you're no worse off than you were before, and I'm…well, I'm on slop-out duty for the next six months, but I'd rather that than continue to live in this atmosphere any longer."

Scott sat back in his chair, playing with the tablecloth with fidgeting fingers. He looked round at Ned and wished with his entire being that this was easy, that he wasn't being pulled painfully in two different directions. Somewhere in the most instinctive part of his brain, there was a Scott in an air-force uniform, standing smartly to attention, with no intention of ever disobeying any orders. That Scott was not very happy with off-duty Scott right now. A bawling-out was heading fast in off-duty Scott's direction. And he knew he deserved it. But what could he do? He certainly couldn't stop Virgil, he knew that from experience. His brother may be pretty quiet, gentle and artistic, but Scott knew to his cost that he could also be one of the most determined people you would ever meet.

"I can't condone this. Sorry Ned, but I can't, not if Dad doesn't agree."

"I know. That's why it is entirely my fault that Ned's coming with us and why I called Dad to make sure he knew it. Come on, let's go. I get the feeling you don't want to go anywhere else now?"

"Right." Scott stood up. Ned went to pay the bill quickly, not waiting for it to come to him, and they left the restaurant, heading for the airfield.

As they walked down the empty streets to the edge of town, Scott Tracy made a decision,

"Right." He said again, and this time his voice was firm, commanding. There was a march in his step and though there was softness in his eyes when they fell on Ned, his whole frame suddenly spoke of efficiency and determination. On-duty Scott was going to take what control he had left of a tricky situation.

They checked in with the flight control at the airfield, before proceeding to the two jets standing near the main complex.  
"Ned can come with me, Gordon with you," said Virgil, "I don't want you implicated at all."

"Okay. You can call this one. Ned…" He called him over to him and placed his hands on his lapels,

"I imagine Dad will want a chat with you pretty quickly when we get home. Don't let him scare you, he's a great guy. Tell him the truth. He'll be fair with you. I hope." He pulled on the lapels and kissed Ned softly on the lips. Glaring at his brothers in a warning not to even think of raising their eyebrows, he flicked up the top of the Ladybird, and jumped in, in one easy, graceful movement. Ned watched him with admiration, before Virgil tugged on his arm and gave him a leg-up into the second jet.

Ned pulled on the harness as Virgil hopped in beside him and spoke,

"Look Ned, I hope you don't mind, but I've done just about as much rule-breaking as I can stand for today, so I'm going to follow this one slavishly: no outsider who knows who we are comes to the island without having a blindfold. So I'm afraid you're not going to see much of this trip. Is that okay?"

"I don't have a choice do I? Sure. It's fine. Anything to make this easier. Put it on, bud." Virgil smiled, took out a blindfold and carefully wrapped it round Ned's head.

"See anything?"

"Not a thing."

"Good. Well, tell me if you feel queasy or anything. I hate flying blind, in any sense of the word, it can do weird things to your stomach. I'll tell you if we're going to change altitude, give you a chance." Ned nodded. Virgil waited as Scott's jet taxied to the runway, built up speed and took off. The control tower's signal alerted him that he was clear to take off and his strong, long-fingered hands splayed on the controls as the jet accelerated and rose into the air.

As the two jets approached Tracy Island, only minutes apart, Virgil opened comms,

"Virgil to Base, permission to land?"

"Base to Virgil, hold the landing, Ladybird isn't down yet, take a wide circle and I'll let you know. When you're down, I want you to leave the jet out on the runway, don't take her in yet." Virgil chewed his cheek as he listened to his father's words.

"FAB," he said, and let the jet run on past the island, taking a wide, curving path back out over the ocean, waiting for his turn to land. As he came back to roughly the same point again, the commlink buzzed again,

"Virgil, you have clearance to land, come in gently, Ladybird's off to the right, so keep left."

"FAB. Going down, Ned." Virgil pulled the jet round in a tighter ellipse and eased off the power until they were almost gliding in towards the island. The runway, which always seemed so short when he was in Thunderbird Two, stretched out to a reassuringly long stretch of tarmac in this comparatively tiny craft, and as the wheels touched gently down and he started to apply the brakes, he saw the Ladybird, shining in the artificial lights, stuck in behind the palm trees to the right at the end of the runway. The jet slowed to a halt and he taxied her round to stop just next to the bright red jet. His father was talking again,

"Right. Scott, Gordon, Virgil; I want you out of those planes now. Now! Mr Cook can stay put." Virgil took a deep breath,

"Good luck Ned. See you." He pushed open the hood and jumped out, leaving Ned, still blindfolded, sitting in the passenger seat.

Virgil walked quickly across the tarmac to where his brothers stood. By instinct, it seemed, they lined up, as if on parade: to attention, eyes gazing straight ahead, as if their very natures were telling them that this was the way to survive. Jeff Tracy strode out from the smaller hangar entrance set into the giant moving cliff-face that concealed the abnormal size of the craft within. As he passed his three sons, he threw them a glance. A half-smile pulled up the corner of his mouth that faced away from them. His boys looked smart, even out of uniform. What father couldn't be proud of that?

"Gordon, pull those shoulders back," he said as he passed. A slight movement, and the order was obeyed. Jeff nodded and proceeded to the second jet. He pulled himself up, into the cockpit, and sat next to Ned, in the pilot's seat.

Outside, in the impromptu parade, Gordon spoke,

"What if he just takes off with Ned? Takes him straight back to the mainland?"

"He can't," said Virgil, "There's barely enough fuel to get them to the coast, Dad wouldn't risk it."

In the cockpit, Jeff turned to Ned and removed the blindfold. Ned blinked a couple of times and held out his hand,

"Hello. Ned Cook," he said, with as much confidence as he could muster. Jeff was caught slightly off guard, such confidence seemed rather out of place. 'Yes, but this is Ned Cook,' he said to himself as he took the proffered hand; no need to be unnecessarily rude.

"Jeff Tracy," he said. The handshake was firm, Jeff filed the information in his mind: a good handshake inspired a degree of confidence that was rarely misplaced. "I'm Scott's father, as you are no doubt aware."

"Yes, Mr Tracy. I...I know you would prefer that I wasn't here. I desperately want to be here, but I know it's not really convenient. I hope we can sort out our differences." Jeff watched him closely, searching for the nerves, the lie, anything to point to a deceit or dishonest word. All he could see was the honest nervousness of a visitor to a strange place, though it was more limited than might be expected; clearly Ned's experience through his work gave him a better head for these things than most people.

"Okay Mr Cook, here's my view of this, I've had a lot of time to think this over, today, and during the last few weeks, so these represent my final and well thought-through opinions.

"I am not happy that you are here, not because I wish to prevent one of my sons from knowing happiness, but because I am not satisfied that the fullest precautions have been taken to ensure that you do not represent a security hazard, and because you are here in violation of a direct order I gave to Scott concerning the conditions under which you would be allowed here. You know who we are. You are also the sort of person I would generally class as a danger to us. I have seen your work and I know that, no matter how good your intentions, this visit and the opportunities it presents will be almost overwhelmingly tempting to you as a reporter. You do not need me to tell you the whole of the case I put to Scott, because I am sure you have already heard it."

"Scott never says a word against you Mr Tracy. He explained what you said, and why he couldn't bring me back, but he has never suggested that you were being unreasonable."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. At least he still has some respect for me. However, having said all this, although it means allowing a serious insubordination to go more or less unpunished, I am willing to go back on my former decision and allow you to stay on the island for a day or two. I am doing this for two reasons. Firstly because I am willing to accept that it is not your fault that you are here and that you have recognised that you should not be. It would therefore be rude in the extreme to force you back into that blindfold and whisk you back home. It would show a lack of hospitality that some people on this island ('My mother for one' he thought), would consider unforgivable. Secondly, I am persuaded that you really are in love with my son and that he is actually fond of you. This being the case, I have to accept that it is not healthy or fair to keep you apart indefinitely. It is definitely the cause of a deterioration in the friendly atmosphere in this family, a deterioration I am keen to reverse, and it is clear that Scott was not planning on resolving the situation himself. You may thank Virgil for taking matters into his own hands. I do not condone his actions, I am disappointed that he could not find a way to persuade his brother to make a decision for himself, but since it is now too late, I will accept that I have been bypassed and try to make the most of this.

"I have some conditions for you to accept if you are to stay. If you do not accept them, I will willingly refuel and take you back to the mainland. If you accept, but then go back on your word, I will see to it that you never work in broadcasting again. I have contacts all over the world, Mr Cook, and I assure you I could do it so effectively that you couldn't even get a pirate frequency. Understood?"

"Yes Mr Tracy, go ahead."

"The first condition is that you will not, at any time, use any information you happen to pick up either about members of my family, or about International Rescue or its equipment, or this island; or mention that you know us, have been here, or have any connection with us; or even hint at it, whether in a broadcast, in any other media, or privately to friends or associates. Secondly, you will not wander about on this island. You will be shown the main living areas in the villa, where you may wander freely. There are other rooms and places where you may go only in the company of one of us. The rest of the island is out of bounds. You will not attempt to gain access to any of our equipment or any of the areas relating directly to International Rescue's work, nor will you ask any questions about them, beyond what is reasonable. You will certainly not accept an invitation from anybody to go for a tour of the hangars or equipment. I will warn my sons not to offer, but you are to refuse if they do. Finally, you are to be aware that we are on call all the time. There is some routine maintenance to be done. Since you will only be staying a short time, much of this can be put off, as I imagine Scott would like to spend the time with you. However, if an emergency call comes in, you may be asked to go to your room. You must not expect to be allowed to be present while we deal with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr Tracy."

"Do you accept these conditions and understand that I will enforce my penalty with no reservation if I consider you to have broken one or more of these conditions?"

"Yes, I do, Mr Tracy. I swear I will keep my word. Look, I know this may not mean much to you, but I know your picture of me comes mostly from what you've seen on tv, and how you've had to deal with me in the past. I just want you to know that being with Scott has changed me. I mean, I guess I'm no different when I'm after a story, but I think he's taught me where to draw the line sometimes. I guess I'm getting a bit of common sense rubbed off on me. Now, if I've understood correctly, that basically comes back to you. You're the one who brought him up like that. I'm not trying to butter you up, but I just wanted you to know, they're great guys, and I know it. I'm busy remodelling myself, and the more I do, the more I'm glad of it."

Jeff checked for the falsehood again, but he couldn't see it. This was genuine, or he'd lost his touch.

"Right Mr Cook. Thank-you."

"Please, call me Ned."

"If you prefer it. Thank-you, Ned. Welcome to our island." He shook Ned's hand once more and pushed up the hood. Ned undid his harness and followed Jeff with his case, jumping down with a fair amount of grace, and hurrying to catch up as Jeff moved towards his sons.

"Right, stand easy, boys. Listen to me. I am allowing Ned to stay for a day or two. You have forced my hand and I have no wish to be rude. Ned has agreed to a set of conditions, which will not be broken. These include a total ban on going anywhere that we have equipment. No tours of the hangars, no showing off your ships to him. I know he's already been in Two, but under no circumstances is he to go near any of them while he's here, nor talk about our work. Ned agrees, do you?"

"Sure Dad," they said in turn.

"Good. I'll still want to see you, Scott and Virgil, about this once he's gone home. I am not happy, but we'll forget that for now. Right, Virgil, will you put these jets away. The rest of you, back up to the house, I'll get Kyrano to make a room up for you in the main house Ned." They followed him back to the villa via the secondary monorail that could take non-IR visitors up from the runway to the house in total ignorance of the warren of hangars and service areas they were passing. When they arrived at the house, Tin-Tin met them,

"Ned! I'm so glad you have been able to come," she said, as innocently as if she had no idea of the politics surrounding the issue.

"Tin-Tin, would you please show Ned to the first guest room along the corridor, and ask your father to make it up for him. Then take Ned to the kitchen and get him something to eat and drink. We'll be with you in a minute." Tin-Tin smiled,

"Of course, Mr Tracy." She glanced at Ned and left the room, with him following her.

"Gordon, could you go and tell Grandma that we have a visitor, if she's awake, and Brains if you can find him."

"Sure Dad," said Gordon, and rushed off to find them.

"Scott." Scott looked steadily into his eyes.

"Yes Father?"

"I've ordered that room to be made up. It is of no interest to me whatsoever whether it is used or not. I don't want to know. I just don't want you pretending and counterfeiting use just for the appearance of it. There's been enough secrecy and bending of the truth in this house recently. I want it to stop now. I actually quite like Ned, now I meet him. In the flesh he seems pretty honest and straightforward. I hope I'm right about this. I'm not happy, I never want to find anything like this happening again, but I'm going to forget it. I get the feeling I've come close to losing my relationship with you lately, and I can't have that, it's been unpleasant. So this is it. We draw a line. As to how much or whether Ned comes here again is something we'll look at later, but my objections are on the record and they can stay there. Are you okay Son?" He looked at Scott, who was standing stock still, his eyes closed. Jeff put his hand on his shoulder. Scott opened his eyes.

"Yeah. I'm…thanks Dad. Really. Thanks. But you know, I'm terrified. I mean it, I'm more scared than I've ever been on a rescue."

"Why?"

"I guess I'm worried. What if Ned broke our trust? What if he betrayed us? It would be my fault and I couldn't live with it."

"Do you expect him to?"

"Not at all. I can't imagine it. But what if I'm wrong?" Jeff stood back from his son,

"Scott Tracy. Remember who you are. What if the rope doesn't hold? What if the engine fails? What if the guy shoots you? What if the sky falls? 'What ifs' get you nowhere. They don't bother you when you're on a rescue. Don't dwell on them now."

"I know. I guess it's just that it's International Rescue that's at risk, not just me or Virgil or one of the machines."

"Ignore it. I've let him stay, it's as much my look-out as yours. I think he'll be okay. Keep an eye on him, don't tempt him too much. Now. Go and enjoy yourself. And get some sleep, I don't want you staying up all night and not being ready for action. I know you Scott, you forget."

"I could say something about pots and kettles. Who do I find still doing paperwork when I get up for a drink at four in the morning?"

"Alright. I admit it. If I've been forced to realise one thing this last few weeks, it's that we're pretty much identical when it comes to things like that. And I apologise for it. Now go on." He patted Scott on the back. Scott smiled, held out his hand, and shook with his father. He went to the kitchen feeling like the world had just been heaved off his shoulders.

In the kitchen, Ned was sitting at the table, Virgil, having returned from the hangar, was perched next to him on the edge of the table. Tin-Tin was busying herself with the kettle and Grandma was just coming out of the larder with a giant-sized home-made fruit cake. Scott grinned as he entered, suddenly feeling that maybe that slice of apple pie hadn't been such a bad idea, and come to think of it…

"Grandma, you are a mind-reader." He went for the first slice, but was shooed off by his grandmother,

"You wait, Scott Tracy. Where are your manners? Visitors first." She put the platter down on the table, whisked a plate in front of Ned and laid a thick doorstep of cake on it.

"Wow, thank-you Mrs Tracy. I've heard a lot about your home-cooking." Grandma smiled and ushered him on,

"Eat, eat. It's my special, it has turmeric in it. I'm not surprised you've heard. You will learn, young man, that if Scott Tracy is not worrying about his work, he is thinking about food. How he's not the size of a house is anybody's guess. He's already had more birthday cake than is good for him today. You, on the other hand, look as though you could do with fattening up a bit." Virgil smirked and raised his eyebrows at Scott, who just kept on grinning.

"That's delicious. You sure are a great cook Mrs Tracy," said Ned, clearing the last crumbs from his plate as Tin-Tin put a mug down in front of him.

"Have another slice dear. And you boys can take one each too." Scott and Virgil grabbed at the cake and bit in, scattering crumbs far and wide. They yelped as their grandmother laid a healthy spank on the backs of their legs and handed them plates.

"Sorry Grandma," mumbled Virgil through his mouthful.

"Don't speak with your mouth full."

Scott finished his mouthful and turned to his grandmother, running his fingers awkwardly through his hair,

"Uh, Grandma, you've been introduced to Ned, yes?"

"Well of course I have my dear, I would hardly be talking to him if I hadn't now would I?"

"I just wondered…um, you know who he is, I mean to me, not in general…"

"Scott Tracy," His grandmother took his strong, tanned hands in her small, delicately patterned hands, "I knew a long time ago."

"You did?" Scott was taken aback, so apparently were his brothers, and even Tin-Tin, who froze, looking over the top of her mug.

"Why of course I did. I may be old, young man, but that doesn't mean I can't spot a lost heart when I see one. Ned, you come to me any time you get doubts about whether he loves you, and I'll tell you what it's been like in this house recently, then you'll change your mind."

"You don't, you don't mind, Grandma?" Scott asked, uncertainly.

"I've never thought it was any of my business how other people want to lead their lives. If this is what makes you happy, I'm not going to stand by and make sour faces. There's been enough of those about recently, and I intend for it to stop." Scott grinned again, he seemed to be doing a lot of that right now, grabbed his grandmother round the waist and swung her round. She screamed girlishly,

"Put me down! I don't know where you get the nerve."

"You are, without doubt, the best grandma there ever was," said Scott, with total sincerity. "How come you didn't say anything?"

"Because you and your father are about the stubbornest people I know. Heaven knows where you get it from…" Scott and Virgil both smirked. "And I just couldn't see that throwing my two penn'orth in was going to help any. I'd more likely have taken sides and just made things that much worse. When you get to my age, perhaps you'll have learnt that sometimes keeping your mouth shut is the better option. If you hadn't gotten that rescue call when you did the other night though, I might have said something anyway. It's none of my business how my boy chooses to run his family, but I ain't never held with those kind of raised voices, not at that time of night, and not for those reasons. It wasn't civilised. Oh now look, you made me speak badly of my family in front of a guest. I'm sorry Ned, you'll have to forgive an old lady who should know better."

"I didn't hear a word Mrs Tracy."

"Good boy," replied Mrs Tracy, with a twinkle in her eye. "More cake?"

"No thank-you. I've had plenty. It's delicious, but we had dinner before we came back."

"That doesn't stop this lot. Gordon, have some cake," she said as Gordon entered the kitchen.

"Gee, thanks Grandma. I can't find Brains anywhere. Must be busy with something." He took a slice of cake, quickly picked up a plate under his grandmother's disapproving gaze, and sat opposite Ned at the table. Scott put his empty plate down on the table and placed a hand on Ned's shoulder,

"Want a tour? The bits you're allowed to see I mean. Not quite as exciting as a studio, but…"

"Sure." Ned gulped down the last of his drink and stood up. "Thanks Mrs Tracy, Tin-Tin." Scott pulled him by the hand and he followed him out of the kitchen.

An hour later, Ned had seen most of the house. Dawn wasn't far off, and standing on the balcony of Scott's room, he could see the rest of the island starting to emerge from the darkness.

"It looks incredible Scott. It all belongs to your family?"

"Yep. Private tropical island. Not a bad place to wait for action." Ned slipped his arm round his waist and they leant on the rail, looking at the stars together, the cool night breeze gently ruffling their hair. "We should get some sleep. I don't want to be on my last legs if we do get a call."

"Am I…I mean, there's another room for me isn't there. Do I have to…?"

"Oh, no. Dad did mention that. He doesn't care, so long as he doesn't have to know. I'm thirty-one Ned. No matter what the problems we've had, Dad's not that much of a dictator. Let's grab your stuff and get some shut-eye."

Ned opened one eye. His cheek was cold, a trail of drool snaking out of the corner of his open mouth. He shut it and thought about moving his hand up to wipe his face. Then he decided not to, because the hand that wasn't trapped underneath him, too numb to use, was holding on to a well-muscled thigh that definitely wasn't his own. He smiled to himself. For only the second time, he was waking up next to Scott Tracy and he couldn't have been happier. He ground the side of his face into the sheets to try to dry it and snuggled in a little closer to Scott. He placed a kiss on the warm, damp skin of his back, feeling the relaxed muscles shifting fractionally beneath his lips.

 

Scott opened one eye. His cheek was cold, a trail of drool snaking out of the corner of his open mouth. He shut it and thought about moving his hand up to wipe his face. Then he decided not to, because the hand that wasn't trapped underneath him, too numb to use, was draped lightly over a hand, holding onto his thigh, that definitely wasn't his own. He felt a touch, no, a kiss on his back, sending tingles though him, and he drew back his hand and rolled over in the direction of the kiss.

As Scott and Ned faced each other, they each wiped the side of their own face. They laughed,

"Good morning," croaked Ned.

"Mmm," said Scott.

"That the best you can do?"

"Mmm." Scott nodded. Ned ran his fingers down the lines of definition in Scott's shoulder muscles,

"Show me the rest of the island this morning."

"Only what I'm allowed to," said Scott, slightly sharply,

"Sure. Sorry Scott, should have qualified that."

"No. Sorry. I'm grouchy, I've had too much sleep, need a shower." He started to push himself up, Ned's hand gripped more tightly and stopped him.

"Oh no you don't. Not yet." He pulled him back down and kissed him.

"Okay, you can have that shower," he said, pulling away after a while, "We don't taste so good. Clearly turmeric cake that late at night isn't great for your breath." Scott swatted at him, "Hey! I said we!"

"Come and take that shower with me then."

Half an hour later they emerged into the kitchen. The only person in evidence was Alan, sitting at the table with a bowl of cornflakes, a racing magazine, and very tousled hair. He looked up and saw Ned and the little warning furrows between his eyebrows sprung into action.

"What's he doing here?" Scott frowned at him, strode over and stood between him and Ned, hovering close to his face,

"Where are your manners Alan? He's here with Dad's knowledge, you behave yourself. Shake hands and don't you dare let me hear you speak to a guest like that again."

"Sorry Scott. I was just, um, surprised. No-one told me he was here. I thought you were still slugging it out with Dad about him."

"Okay. No. We've dealt with that now. You must have been in bed when we got back."

"Of course I was in bed. What else is there to do when everyone else goes off to the mainland and leaves you behind?"

"Tin-Tin stayed. She wouldn't come with us, said you needed some company. I guess you cold-shouldered her did you?" Alan looked rather sheepish. "Alright baby bro, I know you're sore at us for leaving you. But you know Dad's rules. Just say hi to Ned and be nice, you look like a monster with your face screwed up like that."

Alan forced his face into a smile, got up as Scott stood aside, and held out his hand to shake,

"Sorry, Ned. I guess I'm not awake yet. We met at that rescue, but didn't get introduced. I'm Alan."

"Hi Alan. No sweat. I don't blame you, seeing my ugly mug this early in the morning is enough to put anyone off their cereal." Alan grinned and sat down.

After breakfast, Scott took Ned on the outdoors leg of his island tour. They wandered through the rough vegetation on the rocky rises behind the villa and sauntered along the beaches, paddling their feet in the lapping waves, before making their way up to the house again and stopping by the pool.  
"Well? What do you think?" asked Scott as they sat at one of the little poolside tables, shaded by a giant parasol.

"It's amazing. What a place to live! If I wasn't under the strictest injunctions from myself and your Father, I'd be planning an hour long report on this place and the possibilities it represents."

"Well, I guess that's one that'll just have to stay in your head. What did Dad threaten you with?"

"He said he could stop me from ever being able to broadcast from anywhere ever again. I suppose he could do it, he's not bluffing is he?"

"Would it matter if he was?"

"No. I'm not about to break my word."

"Good. But no, he's not bluffing. Dad knows people in all sorts of circles, and you can bet he knows the right high-fliers to make good his threat. He…" But at that moment the alarm signifying an emergency call went off, flashing from a toggle hanging down from the parasol. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. He stood up,

"That's a rescue coming in. Stay here, or my room or the kitchen, not in the pool. I'll…I'll see you later." He snatched a momentary kiss and ran off to the house. Ned stared after him, dazed by the speed of his exit, then fell back in his chair and sat watching the sun-sparkles dancing on the ripples of the water.

Scott dashed into the lounge, arriving at the same time as Alan and Gordon. Virgil was already there, standing near his father, their attentions focused on John's portrait, which was live and talking fast.

"…a fix for it, too short a transmission, but I'll keep trying. There's a really patchy response on the scans, I don't know why. I've seen something like it before, I'm trying to remember what it was."

"Did you get to hear what the emergency was, John?" asked Jeff.

"They're a legit ship, but something's gone wrong on board, I don't know, either a piece of equipment or one of the personnel. They've got a crack in the hull somewhere, in one of the side plates. I guess they're one of the old class three types, all heavily welded plates, rather that one smooth piece. Usually they're weaker, but it does confine damage, or they'd have exploded by now. Their power is down or failing, so the atmosphere that's leaking out won't get replaced and I guess they can't do anything about it. They'll be on emergency power for heating, won't want to waste it on radio if they got that I've received them. I'm sure that's why the signal cut off. I'm trying to get a boost on my transmissions now that they've moved away from me, but I'm not getting a response, I'll keep trying."

"Right John, do your best. We'll work out a plan of action down here. Keep in touch with any developments." John signed off and the still portrait blipped back. "All here? Good. We've got a space rescue on our hands. You heard the basic details there. A split in the hull, loss of power and an unknown situation on board. Could be anything, from a debris hit knocking in the hull and taking out the power, to a bout of stir-crazy. John's having trouble finding the ship, it was moving fast, but it's out of sight round the corner at the moment. It's not descending, so it might come out into view any time. We need to get up there, fix that hull or transfer the people off the ship. Alan, this is your call, what do you think?"

"In Thunderbird Three, we'll be able to find her, no problem, but it's hard to know what to take without knowing what sort of ship it is. Cutters, lines, all the usual stuff, but if I knew the ship, I could take up the right materials, do the job properly. Maybe if John sends a copy of those scans, one of us might recognise the pattern."

"Base calling Space Station, come in John."

"Go ahead Father."

"John, can you transmit a copy of the scan results, see if we can interpret them?"

"FAB." John's image disappeared and a set of computerised scan images appeared on the screen. The lines of data showed several dark blobs, with lighter coronae spreading in jagged, uneven patterns into the surrounding area.

"Looks like some kind of force-field," said Virgil.

"Too irregular," said Scott, "Does look familiar though, John's right. I've seen something like this. When was it?" He pulled at his lip, thinking for a while. "It was while I was on surveillance during training in the Air-force. I was doing high-altitude sweeps for atmosphere-skimming jets. I remember seeing the shape and not recognising it and asking the officer in charge to identify it…" He paused again, trawling his memory, "It was a Scorpion ship."

"Of course!" said Jeff, banging his hand on the table, "They were built like the class threes. I'd forgotten there were any still in service, but now I think of it, there were two still going when I last looked. Alan, get onto the International Astronautics Registry and find out who those two are registered to."

"FAB," said Alan, and hurried to the terminal behind his father's desk.

"What's a Scorpion ship?" asked Gordon. Scott turned to him,

"It was a pioneering design, intended to cut the number of accidents involving space debris, back when hulls were more easily damaged. They look like scorpion fish, all spikes of metal sticking out like fins all over the place. It means that the debris or meteor hits the spines rather than the hull, gets deflected or slowed, so doesn't punch a hole in the ship. Even stops a lot of the erosion from space dust. But they're the very devil to dock with, and you can't bring them into the atmosphere, so they're a shuttle job to get to. They were alright as an idea, but the moment stronger hull materials were readily available, they were made redundant. I guess they have novelty value though, we're probably looking at some sort of party going on in there." Alan came back with a note in his hand,

"Two registered Scorpion ships, both re-registered under new names – Coral-Reef and Blue Moon. The first is under the ownership of a private company in the States, which hires it out for special occasions, birthdays, honeymoons, that sort of thing; the second is currently being used as a training ship, doing the small-ship survival course for a little international university department. It's only had it a few months, new course, new equipment, this is one of their first proper uses of it. I checked up on the private company and their ship is having a refit at the moment and is in close orbit round the moon, so I guess it's not that one."

"Right. Gordon, I want you to go and get on to that university department, find out what they know and get them on an open line with John if they're in a position to help. Alan, if you know what you need, go and load up Thunderbird Three, make sure there are EVA suits in for the three of you, plus enough for at least five or so personnel, you can always swap over if there are more on board. Scott, Virgil, you go up with Alan, you might well need the manpower. Tin-Tin, run and send as many survival packs as you can down the chute. Thunderbirds Are Go!"

The couch with three of Jeff's sons on it sank through the floor as Tin-Tin rushed off to perform her task and Gordon hurried to make his call.

Minutes later, the pressure in Thunderbird Three's chemical rocket pads increased to a critical point, and the craft followed its bright red nose into the sky. By the pool, Ned heard the rumble of the take-off and looked round to see the crimson rocket climbing straight upwards and slowly fading from sight as it left the Earth's atmosphere. Suddenly he felt very lonely. Instinct told him that Scott was in that rocket, meaning he was no longer on the same planet as Ned. He got up and walked up to the house, carefully choosing an entrance that would allow him to go straight to the kitchen, rather than risk passing too near the lounge and the edge of his promise.

There was no-one in the kitchen. Ned got himself a drink as he had been told he could, and wrapped his hand round the glass. The icy liquid quickly spread a sheen of condensation over the outside of the tumbler, and Ned's fingers automatically played with it, leaving clear trails in the frosting, which stood out for second before they misted over again, drops of water running from their nadirs and making their own clear paths down to the table-top, while Ned sat lost in thought.

As Thunderbird Three left the atmosphere and the blue sky faded to stars, Alan opened the link with the Space Station.  
"Which way, John?"

"Bear East. I last caught sight of them headed round that way, but I can't do any better than that I'm afraid. Dad said Scott worked out it was a Scorpion?"

"Yeah, he saw one during training once."

"They're antiques."

"Amazing ships though," Scott butted in, "I'd like to see her, if we can sort her out first. They were a really innovative design."

"Better get to her quickly then. A crack in the hull's no good for any ship, no matter how innovative." Alan was working away at his console, leaving Scott to pilot the craft. Virgil was packing the stores more carefully in the hold.

"Right. I've set this scan up to pick out the hull material. I've blanked the Earth and us, so we should only get the Scorpion and debris, which would be too small. Scott, you wave her around a bit and I'll call the figures."

"FAB," Scott answered Alan and took hold of the directional controls. Short jet bursts from Thunderbird Three's middle ring altered her course by degrees, while Alan kept his eye on the readout and called the results to Scott.

"Twenty. That's way too low, we need to be seeing hundreds. 20, 20, 25, 30, 31, 31, 31, 31," the numbers came in a steady stream, Alan now functioning on autopilot, "25, 31, 50, 68, 70, 64…"

After a time the numbers rose more quickly and as they rounded the Earth, they climbed to the heights Alan had been expecting.

"148, 148, 150, 169, 183, 179, 185, 198, 203, 230, 270…"

"There!" Scott cried, spotting the form of a spaceship on his monitor. Alan abandoned his post and hurried to look at the screen.

"John, we've got it. Patching you through." He flicked a switch and John whistled,

"Got it. Boy, that's an old ship. I've got the line on it now. It seems to have a spin on it, pretty ferocious by the look of things. You'll never dock with her like that. Can you try to open comms with her now you're closer in?"

"Sure, I'll try." Alan flicked another switch, "This is International Rescue calling Scorpion ship, Do you read me? Come in Scorpion ship. Blue Moon? Do you read me? Any signal will do. Can you hear me?" They waited, tense and silent for a minute, but there was no response. Alan called down to Virgil in the hold,

"Virgil, plug in the transmitter down there and keep trying to contact this ship will you, we're pointing the right way, but we're not getting any answer."

"FAB," said Virgil, and set about the task.

"Scott, if we can't get hold of them, we'll have to link up with them first and find out the situation later. Can you take us on a turn round her and see if there's any way we can hook up."

"FAB," said Scott, and soon they were flying in a wide circle round the stricken craft, looking for a way to fix a line or dock properly. After a complete circuit, Scott broke the silence,

"It's no use Alan, we can't link up like this. She's spines all over except in her tail, and that's all flimsy bits of singed exhaust. We could hook up a line along her side, but not with the spin she's got on her, the line would be snarled in moments."

"Okay, so we'd better stop the spin. Any ideas John?"

"Id usually suggest a line, but Scott's right, you'd be snarled up before you knew where you were. Could take a shot at her with Three's rockets, but that's inaccurate and I don't know about her hull stability…the only thing I can think of is if you were to take a walk over there and hang on to her and fire your EVA pack jets against the spin."

"Would that be enough?" asked Scott.

"Sure. No real resistance. It'll be tricky, to get the direction of force right, but it would work."

"Right," said Alan, getting out of his seat, "I'll get suited up and mosey on over then. Tell Dad will you?"

"FAB." Scott heard John passing on the information to his father while Alan went to change into his suit. In a few minutes he was back, helmet under his arm, in his snug, silver spacesuit.

"Check me over, will you Scott?" he asked. Scott checked the autopilot and went over to his brother. He checked the seals between the gleaming silver boots and the bottoms of the trouser legs, then the front seal and the various wires and hoses providing life support from the canisters and pumps strapped to Alan's back and chest. Then the gloves, sealed to the sleeves at the wrist, the jet-pack that would ensure that Alan could move himself around safely in space, and the dials that would tell him when his life-support was running short. The readouts on Alan's reference dials matched those on the equipment, so Scott nodded, waited while Alan pulled on his helmet, then checked and double-checked the seals from the neck down."

"Breathe hard," he commanded, his back to Alan, over the commlink from Thunderbird Three. He turned and watched Alan panting in and out. So the link was functioning and so was the suit. He gave Alan the thumbs-up and went back to the console as Alan made his way to the airlock.

"Entering airlock now Scott," he heard Alan say over the link.

"FAB. Closing inner airlock door. Depressurising. Opening outer airlock. Good Luck Alan, take it steady."

"I will." Scott watched on the monitor as Alan reeled out on a line from the airlock. A single burst from his jet-pack sent him hurtling towards the Scorpion ship and a few shorter bursts altered his course, then slowed him, until his was approaching the side of the craft at low speed. One more burst from his chest stopped him relative to the ship and he floated, still moving through space, but a steady thirty feet from the nearest spine.

The ship was indeed rotating around its axis. Quite fast, now that Alan was so close. The spines swept past him like the teeth on the drum of an old-fashioned music box. If he were doing this for training, he'd have asked to slow it down a little, but this wasn't training, and he didn't have that option.

"Whew, she's spinning like a ferris wheel, Scott. It's going to be tricky landing on her."

"Be careful Alan. If you can't do it, take a trip round the end and see if you can get a hold on the exhaust."

"No fear Scott! I've heard enough stories about that. I don't fancy getting fried when they decide to come out of hibernation. No, I'm going to come off the line though. If I go near with it I'm going to be trussed up like a fly in a web in no time."

"Are you sure Alan? How are the levels in your pack?"

"I've hardly used a thing Scott. I promise I'll hook back up the moment I've got her stable." He unclipped the line from the catch and runner on his suit and left it hanging in space like a bizarre parody of the Indian Rope trick. Unconnected to anything now, he touched the jet controls on his pack and moved cautiously towards the ship. He felt slightly nervous. His usual bravado was all very well, but there were rules you learnt when you first went into space, and the first of them was that, wherever possible, you stay hooked up to something. Enough tales were told in training of people who had just unclipped for a moment to do something, lost their grip, found a malfunction in their pack, or any of another hundred basic problems, and been sent soaring off into space, never to be seen again. Alan ended up doing a few disconnected EVAs in his work for International Rescue, but it still made him uneasy for the first few minutes.

He focussed on the ship, not looking down. He was used to being out in space, but it was always a good idea to not look down, especially if 'down' for you wasn't directly pointing back at the surface of a planet. Somehow the human mind didn't always cope very well with seeing nothing but infinite stars beneath its feet. Even an experienced astronaut, used to the extraordinary concepts of what constituted down or up in space, could get the odd panic signals if caught off guard. So Alan focused on the sweeping spines ahead of him, and how best to attach himself to one of them.

He was so focused on those immediately ahead of him, in fact, that he did not notice the extra long one coming up under his feet, until it connected, flicking him up and imparting some of it's spin to him.

"Alan!" called Scott, as he watched his brother float off like a spinning rag-doll, racing away from the ship.

"Alan, stop yourself, quickly, you're heading away too fast." Jeff's voice suddenly filled Alan's ears and the control room of Thunderbird Three. Clearly John had patched him through so he could follow developments first hand.

"Alan, take the spin off and try to…" John added.

"Shut up!" came Alan's voice, loud and angry. Worried, more like. "I know." A pause. "Sorry, but I need to concentrate guys."

Alan's fingers played gently on the controls. He had a basic gyro in his helmet, but he preferred to use the ships to line himself up. That was the problem in space. If you closed your eyes, you'd never even know you were spinning. You had to fix yourself a point around which to stabilise. A burst from the front, one from the back, a nudge to one side, a bigger burst from the back – no, that was too much. A wave of panic went through him as he saw the distance he now was from the two ships. A poem he had read many times as a child came back to him with force, the knowledge of what dying in the depths of space meant:

Stars below and stars above,  
Why are you fearful now my love?  
So cold, I am so cold, you cry,  
How can this be, when stars are by?

He quashed the sick feeling and let off another burst. The minutes passed in silence, his family honouring his wish for peace. At last he was steady against the two ships: when he held his arm up horizontally in front of his eyes, the line along the body of Three remained steady, though getting smaller by the minute. He sighed with relief and pressed for another burst to send him forwards, back towards the two ships.

The ships were moving perpendicular to Alan's direction of thrust, so he had to continually give himself little sideways nudges, but in time, the bulk of the Scorpion ship started to fill his field of vision once more, and as he finally stretched out a hand and grabbed a passing spine, pulled himself close and tied himself on, he heard a whoop and applause across the commlink. Gordon was clearly on the line now.

"Well done, Son," came Jeff's voice once more. Alan grinned,

"How am I doing for time now?" He knew the air on the ship must be running out, but they had not been able to get any idea of the time constraints until they knew what size the ship was. John related his findings,

"It's hard to tell, Alan. There are so many unknowns, but judging from the data I've got on Scorpion ships, their endurance can't be huge. The volume in there is only about twice that of Thunderbird Three. It depends what size the crack in the hull is, how long their generators have been down, how may people are on board, and how long it was before we received their message. I really can't give you a time, but I don't think we're too late. Once you've stabilised that thing, if you can locate the damage, we'll have more of an idea what we're dealing with." They watched Alan's progress as he fired strong bursts from his jet packs. The ship swayed, its rotation unchecked for a while, before Alan found the perfect angle and the rotation slowed…and stopped.

"Good job Alan!" Scott called to him, "Now find that damage."

Within minutes, Alan had found the damaged area, a cracked panel, about three feet long, it's edges feathered outwards, as if it had been caused by a blow from the inside. Fine fracture-lines spread from the ends and a fine stream of crystallising gases escaped from the gap. Alan sucked his teeth in concern.

"This doesn't look good fellas. I wouldn't pin much on her integrity. We'll have to go in and try to get them out as quickly as possible. We can put a strap on this for now, but this is a proper repair job, not a five-minute lash-up."

"Right, what do we need Alan? I'll get suited up while Virgil finds the gear, then I'll get him to check me and pass me out and I'll join you over there."

"FAB. We want the carbon fibre patch kit, plenty of fixers, a couple of cutter welders and some of the spare suits, I don't think we ought to keep them waiting."

"FAB." Scott checked that Virgil had heard the list of supplies and told him to hurry up to the control room once he had them. Then he went to the spacesuit storage lockers and pulled out his suit, it was almost identical to Alan's, but with blue flashes where Alan had his familiar off-white. He checked the seals himself, but let Virgil run over the complete check again before heading to the airlock with the gear. The second rule in space was that you could never check too many times.

Clipping himself onto Alan's abandoned line, Scott thrust himself towards the Scorpion ship where he landed, feet from Alan, and clambered over to him. He looked at the damage and took a sharp intake of breath,

"Better work fast, those lines are spreading," said Alan.

Back in the Tracy villa, Ned was still sitting at the kitchen table, when Tin-Tin entered.

"Oh, Ned. Are you alright?"

"Fine, Tin-Tin. Although, I'd like to know what's going on, but I know I'm not allowed to, so I'm not even going to ask."

"Poor Ned. It must be very difficult for you. I know. I hate it when Alan's on a rescue like this."

"Alan's gone too?"

"Of course, it's a space rescue."

"Don't tell me. I'm not allowed to know."

"Well that's just silly. You need to know. Scott's up there risking his life. I think you have a right to be informed. I can hardly bear to follow what's going on when Alan's on a rescue, but I feel ten times worse if I don't know exactly what's happening. I'll go and ask Mr Tracy."

"Tin-Tin, no…" said Ned, but she had already swept out of the room and was rushing to the lounge.

"Mr Tracy?" she asked softly, as she approached him, "Can I ask a favour of you?"

"What is it Tin-Tin?" asked Jeff, barely flicking his eyes from the screen to look at her.

"Would you let me tell Ned what is going on? He's sitting on his own in the kitchen, being noble and deliberately not asking any questions, but he's worried about Scott, you can see it. I think he has a right to know what Scott is doing. It's not fair otherwise. I would feel dreadful if I couldn't know what Alan is doing."

"I don't like it Tin-Tin. He may learn something he shouldn't."

"What can he learn? He knows we have incredible equipment anyway. He knows what we do. He knows about our secrecy. If he won't even ask me for details, he obviously has no plans to use the information. Please Mr Tracy."

"Alright Tin-Tin. You're probably right. He can come in here, but he's to stay out of sight in that corner, I don't want him to distract the boys when they're on vid. And I might ask him to leave if I feel it is necessary."

"Thank-you Mr Tracy. I'll go and tell him." She sped back to the kitchen.

"Ned. Come with me. I asked Mr Tracy and he says you may come and sit in the lounge, if you stay out of sight of the screens and don't mind leaving if he asks you to." Ned stood up, his eyes shining,

"Really?" She nodded. "Thank-you Tin-Tin, thank-you so much." An impulse made him lean in and snatch a kiss on her cheek. She smiled softly, batting at his arm in a careless rebuttal, and he followed her, almost at a run. She led him past Jeff and over to a couch that was out of sight of the screens. There she sat and related the details of the rescue so far, until he was up to date with the fact that Scott was now crawling over the hull of the battered old ship with Alan. He had stopped smiling now and was looking scared. Ned Cook didn't do space. He had been up once, as part of a report, and they had tried to send him again several times since, but he wouldn't go. The outer limits of Earth's atmosphere marked the limits of Ned's bravery. Give him a dangerous situation on Earth, and so long as he was reporting, he'd barely notice it, would ignore it, or take what came to him in fairly good spirits. But take him off the Earth and he was lost. Fear coursed through him. There was something about knowing that mistakes were all fatal there, that the only thing between you and death was a bit of tin sheet: that he couldn't deal with. Scott was out there, from what he had just heard him say over the comms, it sounded like the ship he was sitting on could break up at any moment. Ned knew about that, had covered space accidents from the ground. A break up in space meant an explosion in a small ship like that, as the pressure inside far exceeded that outside. A slow leak like this might reduce that possibility, but for Ned that wasn't enough. That was Scott there; that dot on a dot in the vastness.

Tin-Tin looked at him,

"Are you alright Ned?"

"No. I'm scared." For some reason, he didn't mind telling Tin-Tin, in a low voice that would not be overheard by Jeff Tracy.

"I thought you were the bold, brave reporter?" she said kindly, trying to jolly him out of his fear.

"I am, with stuff on Earth, stuff that isn't anything to do with me. I mean, I do care when I see terrible things happen on Earth, but space is different. And I'm not reporting. You get a sense of detachment with that, but this is different. I can't block out that it's Scott up there. Thanks for getting me permission to see this, Tin-Tin. I really am grateful, but I think I'll go and take a little time to myself if you don't mind. No offence to you."

"Of course not. You go ahead. I know how you feel." He smiled at her and walked out of the room. As he left, the screen showing the live feed coming from Thunderbird Three showed a flash of light, and a pop sounded through the audio circuit: the sort of pop you hear when you pick up a large explosion only through a layer of spacesuit and a helmet mic, when all around is a vacuum.

Gordon made his way along the corridor, heading back to the lounge. He had left his father with the information he needed and didn't want to be away too long from the data coming back from the rescue. He had just grabbed his book and…

As he passed Scott's bedroom door, he could hear speech coming from inside. He stopped. Yeah, sure, Ned would treat it like his own room while he was here, but what the hell was he doing in there chatting away to himself? Unless… No. He couldn't be. Not after everything they'd…

Gordon put his ear to the door and listened. The nuances of the speech were lost through the wood, but it was still pretty easy to hear the words.

"…where it all happens. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege and honour to transmit live from the very house where those great rescuers live. I am standing now in the bedroom of Scott Tracy, the man in charge on the ground at so many of those…" Gordon was gone, pelting back down the corridor to where Jeff was staring at the feedback screens from behind his desk in the lounge.


	13. The Unknown

"Scott? Alan? Answer me!" Jeff shouted over the comms link. "John, can you hear them? Can you see? What's going on?" He drummed his fingers on his desk as John turned away from him on the screen to consult his dials.

"I can't hear them Father. Their circuits are dead. They're not in visual range by a long way. Virgil's trying to contact them."

"Can he see them?" Jeff batted away Gordon, who had just run, full pelt into the room and was standing at his side, trying to get his attention, plucking at his sleeve urgently. Virgil's screen blipped on and he started to tell his father what he could see, still keeping one eye on his control panel,

"I can see the ship. It looks like there's a hole in one end, quite near where Scott and Alan were. It's broken off the line, but I don't know if that was an actual snap, or if it got cut by flying debris. I can't see them, but if they'd been blown off the ship, they'd be floating off out here somewhere and they're not. The ship is turning, but it's still in a stable orbit. Their comms circuits are definitely down. I'm going to fly in closer, I'm going up to the bridge. I'll call in again when I get there." The link shut and Jeff rubbed his hand rapidly over his face, he looked extremely pale.

"John, keep monitoring all circuits, I want to know anything that happens, keep trying them."

"FAB," said John, quietly. He was as worried about his brothers as his father, but being able to make an effort to find them was helping. Jeff turned to Gordon,

"What is it? Can't you see what's just happened?" he snapped. Gordon took a step back, but kept his head,

"It's Ned. He's in Scott's room. It sounds…it sounds like he's broadcasting…like a report or something." Gordon was breathing hard now and stepped back again as Jeff leapt up from behind his desk.

"Damn him!" he shouted, and flung his hand down on a switch on his desk,

"Brains," he called, "Cloak the island, I don't want a single damn transmission to get off except what I'm sending from this room, understand?"

"Yes M-Mr T-Tracy," Brains replied, and hurried to obey.

"Gordon, go and use the emergency override on your brother's door and windows, code zero five nine. Jump to it."

"Yes sir," said Gordon, and ran back out of the room, a look of deepest concern on his face. Tin-Tin was still sitting on the couch in the corner, her hand over her mouth, shock oozing out of her. No. Surely Ned wouldn't do that. Not when they had trusted him, when he had been so understanding. Virgil's screen flipped back and Jeff threw himself back into his chair to hear the report, his heart racing, the hand on the desk shaking,

"Go ahead Virgil."

"I've taken a wide circle round the ship Father, I can't see them, but the hull is so mangled where it's blown out, that I can't be sure they're not in there somewhere. I'll go round again."

"What about the people in there?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen one body. I don't know what the internal structure is like. Have you got the information from the university yet?"

"No. Gordon could only get hold of the secretarial team. They're going to try to get hold of one of the professors who deal with it. They don't have the information we need on their files. They think there are six people on board, but that's it. Hopefully they'll get back to us quickly. But it's useless if we can't find out what's happened to Scott and Alan." The colour started to drain from his face again and he splayed his hands on the desk, applying pressure to regain control.

A tiny 'bleep' sounded in Scott's helmet, a soft tone against a gently hissing background. He tried to open his eyes, realised that they were already open, and then noticed the stars in the blackness. He had obviously been knocked out.

"Alan?" he asked, softly. No response. He moved his arm and caught his breath: it hurt plenty.

"Ahh, Scott calling Space Station, come in John." No response. "Scott calling Thunderbird Three, come in…Virgil." No response. He huffed into his mic, but there was no foldback on the personal comms system, and he couldn't tell if it was working or not. Given the circumstances, he decided it probably wasn't.

Moving his head painfully, Scott looked around for Alan. He spotted him, only a few yards away to his right, at the same time as he heard the 'bleep' again.

"Aww, no," he moaned to himself, and started to run the tip of his left middle finger around on the outside of his suit. There was a rip somewhere, he was losing pressure and air and he needed to find it really quickly. The sensor in the fingertip of his glove should locate it fairly easily, it was one of Brains' best inventions.

The sensor fed back a shrill, rising tone to his earpiece as he ran it up his right arm and he looked down, the pain in his arm was explained by the long rip down his sleeve. The self-healing layer was stopping him losing all pressure, but it couldn't seal completely on a gash that long and staring hard, he could see the tell-tale wisps of escaping air, crystallising as it hit freezing space. Scott reached down to his tool belt with his undamaged arm and pulled out the repair kit he carried. Running the gun-like device over the tear, he fired sheets of gummy fibres repeatedly over the gap until the bleep in his ear calmed down and then stopped. He looked at his dials: the air supply was down to about a third and pressure was low. That was probably what was making him feel light-headed. He waited and the pressure started to build again. As it came back to normal levels, Scott felt more lucid and turned to move towards Alan.

Alan was clipped to the edge of a spine under an overhang of gnarled metal, and with a jolt of shock, Scott realised that it was not the spine on which he had started off. Clearly the explosion would have blown him free of the ship and he was extremely fortunate to have been snagged by a jagged break on this other spine. Scott looked back at his own tether. It dangled freely in space. His boot was jammed in the junction at the base of two spines. That was all that held him to the ship. He closed his eyes again and swallowed a wave of nausea. Only a hair's breath had separated him and Alan from flying off into space. With all the debris he could now see in the far distance, it would have been hard for Thunderbird Three to pick them out. The smallest fragments were invisible and the larger ones were getting harder to see as the sped away. Scott calculated that he could only have been out for a short time, but that meant they would have left the ship at tremendous speed. Scott had been on plenty of space rescues with people floating free. He knew how it worked. If you were going at a gentle speed on your own, you'd be picked up. If you were going one hell of a lick in the middle of a cloud of debris, your chances were slim.

Scott yanked his boot free and went hand-over-hand to Alan. He ran his sensor over the suit: no damage. Good. He looked in through the visor. Alan was out cold, blood trickling down his forehead. The dials on his suit registered better levels than Scott's, and his life-signs were okay, but being out cold in space was dangerous and Scott didn't fancy towing him back to Thunderbird Three with one arm out of commission and no radio. He tried his short-range radio,

"Alan, can you hear me? This is Scott. Alan, wake up. Alan!" he shouted. No response. Either his radio wasn't working, or Alan was too far away to hear. Scott pressed his visor to Alan's, bawling his name through the scant connection of the opposing curves of the helmets,

"Alan! Wake up little bro. Wake up! Hey, squirt. Time for school Kiddo!" he tried, attempting to hit some primal centre in Alan's brain. Alan stayed resolutely unresponsive. Scott tapped hard on the suit next to Alan's chest panel. He had to wake him. He couldn't get to the sensitive part of the ribcage at the sternum where a good hard rap would often get a response when other methods failed. He thought for a moment and brought one hand round to each side of Alan's chest. Holding his ribcage, he started to squeeze. He'd be mighty unpopular if he broke anything, apart from endangering his brother's life, so he really hoped he'd wake before…

A movement inside the helmet caught Scott's eye and he stopped squeezing. He pressed his helmet back to Alan's and listened,

"Ow…stop i'," moaned Alan, his eyes still tightly shut, head rolling to one side.

"Alan, wake up. It's me, it's Scott. You're on a rescue, you need to wake up, you're in space. Open your eyes."

"Thr'open," Alan muttered.

"No, they're not. Alan, listen, wake up. Think. Open your eyes." At last Alan's eyelids flickered and one opened slowly, then the other. He found himself staring back into Scott's eyes, about four inches away from his, through the two helmet visors. He blinked, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief,

"Alan, is your radio working? Mine isn't, can you try to contact base?" He heard Alan try through the visor, but no sound came through his earpiece. Alan shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Not sure. Something exploded, but we're still on the ship, so I guess it was pretty local." Scott decided not to bother Alan's mind with information about just how close a shave it had been. "Knocked me out too, and I've done something to my arm, wrecked my sleeve so I'm low on air. I reckon we check out what happened, then I'll head back to Thunderbird Three if you're okay, get anything we need, change suits and update Virgil. Are you alright?"

"I think so. Head hurts, but I think it's just a knock. Let's go take at look at this ship. Hey, you said you wanted a rescue that wasn't in a storm for once!" Scott nodded ruefully.

They clambered back across the cluttered hull, to where a jagged hole, the size of a family car, showed where the explosion had taken place.

"Coming in?" asked Alan, helmet to helmet again.

"I guess. I hope they're not worrying about us. I'd quite like to have seen Three before we went in, so they know we're okay, but I just can't see it, it must be round the other side, and there isn't time if I'm going to check this out and get back."

"Oh they'll be worrying alright. Wouldn't you be? Must be pretty bad on Ned hey? I mean, this is the first rescue he's known you're on that he hasn't been with you. It's pretty tough to be the one left at home."

"Don't, Alan. He might not even know. Dad wasn't going to just let him watch the rescue in the lounge. He's probably not even letting him know where we are. But I can't think about that now. We've got to concentrate, come on, get in there, those people have little enough chance as it is."

Alan slipped carefully through the hole, watching to see that he didn't snag his suit on the metal. Scott followed, and as he made it through, he saw Alan ahead of him in a large, wedge-shaped chamber. Alan had unclipped a scanner from his belt and was pointing it ahead of him, looking for life-signs. Scott caught him up and looked at the readings: nothing. He checked his air dials, another five minutes or so and he would have to go, regardless; he didn't know how long it would take him to get back to Thunderbird Three.

Looking around, it was not immediately clear what had happened to cause the damage, but then Scott started to see a pattern of indentations in the walls, radiating from a point in mid air that must have been nearest to the wrecked hull-plate. It looked like a device of some sort had been detonated in there, probably too small to do more than crack the hull at first, but the pressure difference must have weakened it progressively until the cracks gave way and it exploded, the fleeing air firing all evidence of the device off into space. Scott realised that Alan had stopped moving, though he still floated forwards under his initial momentum. He looked back into Alan's visor. He had blacked out again. Scott cursed and checked Alan's dials. His breathing was shallow, his pulse fast. Scott yelled at him again, squeezed him once more, but he wouldn't wake. The scanner still showed nothing, though they were near a hatch that should take them further into the ship. Scott grabbed Alan's arm and yelled: he had gone for him with his injured arm and the pain was unbelievable. His flashlight was failing, it must have been damaged in the blast, and he realised that Alan's hadn't been working at all. It was dark inside the ship, they were facing away from the Sun and the Earth and there was nothing to light it but the faint starlight outside. Biting his lip, Scott moved around Alan and got hold of him with his other arm. By pushing him ahead of him, he could keep his outline silhouetted against the faint glow of outside and manoeuvre him towards the hole, even when his light gave out completely and they were in darkness.

Jeff paced up and down the room, firing suggestions at the two moving portraits on the wall,

"Have you tried changing the frequencies you're checking Virgil?"

"Yes, all the time. There's nothing. Their radios must be down altogether."

"Can't you get Thunderbird Three back round to see what's happened?"

"I'm working on it. I couldn't move at first with all that debris around, and I wanted to keep scanning it to check they weren't part of it…"

"John, keep scanning that debris."

"FAB, Father."

"What's stopping you now Virgil?"

"Nothing Father, I'm just turning her round, I can't go too fast, I'm trying to line up properly to bring her in close without getting caught up in her. I just need a little more time, I'm not so used to flying her as Alan or Scott is."

"Could you swap with John? He's good in Three."

"Negative, it's too far. I might as well take the time here as there, at least I might see them here."

"Have you got the ship in visual range yet?"

"Oh she's in visual, always has been, it's just I had to come back round on such a wide circle to stay comfortably in this orbit, that I can't see the side they were working on. But they must have hung on during the explosion, and most of the ship still seems to be alright."

"But if their radios are down, they must have taken a pretty hard blow, get round to them now Virgil, we don't know what might have happened to them."

"FAB. Course set. I'm moving in now."

"Track him John."

"FAB."

There was a pause, an eternity of seconds, while Thunderbird Three made her cautious progress through space towards the Scorpion ship. Jeff paced more quickly, catching sight of Gordon, comforting Tin-Tin who was still in a state of shock.

"Gordon, get back onto that university. We have to know who's in there. I'm not messing around any more, they have to tell us. I can't contact my sons and they're not helping us."

"Yes sir," said Gordon, and headed back to the communications panel.

"As if having a lying, cheating, traitorous fool in our midst wasn't enough…" Tin-Tin sobbed in the corner,

"Oh, Mr Tracy…" For once, Jeff ignored her. He focused back on Virgil's screen, which was now showing Thunderbird Three's view of the other ship; and John's, which showed Five's scan-view of Three.

Scott pushed Alan out of the hole, muttering to himself, telling himself not to be so weak, willing Alan to wake up. Hanging onto Alan's ankle, he gave himself a jet burst that propelled them both out of the hole and back out into space. Checking his rapidly sinking air-levels, he clipped himself to Alan the only way he could, chest to chest on the main line-clips. This restricted his movement and view, and meant that he had to operate Alan's back jets instead of his own chest jets, but it was the only way he could work things with only one arm to spare. He had to get over the ship, find out in which direction Thunderbird Three lay. He touched a jet that pushed them up, off the ship, and bashed his arm hard on the edge of a spine as they went past. Pain obliterated all his other senses and they flew out into space as he fought to regain his vision and his awareness. Alan was a limp fabric bag pinned to his front and his apparently lifeless face was all Scott could see. Space was a peripheral nothing, hardly touching the edges of his sight and Thunderbird Three was not in it. He was panicking, he knew it. He summoned up all his training, but it wasn't there. His brother was in front of him, he had to get him back to the ship, back to safety. He was adrift in space. All was absolute silence save his rattling, gasping breathing. He was losing oxygen. That was it. The dials must be wrong, there was no air in here. It was getting hotter. He wanted to see his brother's eyes open just one more time, hear his voice…just like Ned's…Ned's…ah well…he wouldn't see him again now, he guessed. That hurt. That hurt…That hurt…That…didn't hurt any…more…any…more…Sorry…Ned…

Sorry…

…


	14. Blowing Over

"Come on Virgil, come on," Jeff muttered to himself as he watched the views on the two screens, Thunderbird Three getting steadily closer to the Scorpion ship, but not fast enough for a man with two sons out of touch with him.

"Quickly Virgil, I don't like it, they might be hurt."

"FAB. I'm going to get suited up and go look for them." Virgil pulled on his space suit as quickly as he dared. He talked himself through the checks, trying to remain calm as he realised that every second could be a matter of life and death. Once he had donned all but his helmet, he returned to the control desk to bring her in closer to the ship with the yaw jets. As he tapped tentatively at the controls, a silver something caught his eye on the visual monitor.

"There they are!" he shouted, "Father, I can see them. They're together, but…"

"What, Virgil?"

"I don't know Father. I can't really see, but they're not attached to a line or the ship or anything and they're not using their packs, it's like they're just floating. I'm still open on their channel. I'm going to try to pick them up." Leaving the channel open and the feed to his suit radio live, Virgil pulled on his helmet and hurried to the airlock. Operating the manual controls inside, he de-pressurised and opened the outer hatch. Around thirty feet away, the forms of his brothers could be seen, floating freely in space, gently drifting away from the Scorpion ship. Scott's back was to Virgil, he seemed to be chest-to-chest with Alan, but Virgil couldn't think why. He pressed his controls and a jet from his back propelled him forwards towards them. As he neared, he let off further bursts to come in alongside, and at last grabbed hold of Scott's arm, stopping their drift. The material crackled in an unfamiliar way and Virgil looked down to see Scott's hasty repair. He let go and held Alan's arm instead, guessing that there could be an injury there. Pressing his helmet close between theirs' he squinted through the visors. The closed eyes of each and their slack faces caused a chill to run through him. There was no time to waste, that was clear. Firing another burst of jet, Virgil dragged his brothers back to Thunderbird Three's airlock, trying not to think about what he might find when he got them back inside. He could hear his father over the comms link, asking him what was going on, but a choking lump was stopping him speaking and he didn't trust himself to try.

The outer hatch shut and the moment pressure was back to normal, Virgil ripped off his helmet, opened the inner hatch and pulled his brothers inside. He scrabbled at the clasps holding their helmets on and pulled them back, hearing the faint hiss of the breaking seals. A gentle rise and fall when he placed his hand on Alan's chest was reassuring, but Scott was unmoving. Willing his hands to stop shaking, Virgil felt for a pulse and felt a gentle fluttering, close to nothingness. He felt the increasing adrenaline of a life-or death rescue as he ripped at the seals on Scott's suit and hauled him out onto the floor. Nothing went through his mind, nothing at all. He was trained for this. Too many times he had crouched over bodies at the scene of a disaster, found them wanting and begun the desperate race to save them.

This had to be the same. This had to be just another rescue, or Virgil couldn't do it. So his brain closed off everything except what he needed to know, and he settled himself next to Scott's body. He had done this before. In fact, now, they had all done it at some point, revived one or more of their brothers, or at least kept them alive until better help came. Picking up his helmet, he spoke through the comms link to his father while he prepared Scott.

"Sorry Father, I was too caught up to speak. Alan's unconscious. I'm letting him be for the second, I've got no respiration on Scott. I'm going to start work, I don't know how long he's been out. Get John to bring us in to Five, we'll need the medical bay. Virgil out, I've got to work."

"FAB Virgil," came back the crisp reply, a little too crisp. Virgil had heard that tone many times before and it was never a good thing.

Flooded with thankfulness that he was not facing the almost hopeless prospect of full rescuscitation, Virgil started work. See the chest rise, see it fall, rise, fall, rise, fall, just another 'rescusci anne', just another unknown body, just another life. Breathe, breathe, breathe…

Thunderbird Three's jets had fired, she had turned, they were moving back towards Thunderbird Five, breathe, breathe, breathe…

Virgil's back was aching, his lips dry, his head spinning. And Scott breathed. As Thunderbird Three jolted to lock into the space station's docking ring, the airlock opened and John come running in. Virgil nodded with relief at his brother and together they pulled Alan and Scott into Thunderbird Five and through to the medical bay.

In the lounge of the Tracy Villa, all was silence. Tin-Tin gazed out of the window, her hands folded in her lap, unmoving. Jeff paced still more furiously, every ounce of his will going into not firing questions at Virgil or John while they were so fully occupied. Gordon was back at the comms panel, his face set in an uncharacteristic frown as he waited for the university to get back to him. Occasionally, they heard a thumping, banging coming from along the corridor. Clearly Ned Cook had discovered that he was a prisoner in Scott's room and wanted out.

"Can't we tell him, Mr Tracy?" Tin-Tin asked tentatively, feeling that nothing he could do was bad enough to not tell him that the love of his life was near death. Jeff turned to her, a look of fury melting to pity as he saw her face.

"No Tin-Tin. I'm not dealing with him now. I have more important things to worry about. It wouldn't do anyone any good. I'm certainly not telling anyone up there what he's done, so I don't see why he should get any information."

"But what if we're wrong, Mr Tracy?" Jeff barely heard her, he waved her away.

"Leave it, Tin-Tin. I need to concentrate." He turned back to the screens. In the panic, no-one had thought to flick the view back to a cabin interior, so he could only see the two craft, now locked together. Over the speakers, they could hear a low muttering, electronic sounds, and…a half-shout of joy.

A muttered 'At last.' from behind them turned Jeff and Tin-Tin's attention back to Gordon. He was explaining the problem to someone who replied through the headphones so they could not hear. His face was turned away from them, but they could see the back of his neck turning bright red, till the contrast with his auburn hair was frightful to look at. He was shaking and his responses to the caller were getting terser and more carefully controlled.

"You don't know?… But something did… And how could we do… You mean we have risked… No, no, of course not, but someone must… I understand that, but… Right. Thank-you Sir. I look forward to it. Yes. No. Thank-you. Goodbye."

Gordon ripped off the headset and turned to look at the other two. Staying a good distance from his father and looking both scared and furious, he reported his findings,

"Father, there was…nobody on that ship."

"What?!" Jeff's shout echoed round the room, his furrowed brow giving him a look to match his son's.

"They haven't sent anyone up yet. The secretarial team had heard about the group that was scheduled to go up in a couple of weeks' time, but no-one had actually gone up yet, it was still being prepared and the people fixing it up are all safe on Earth."

"Then what…?"

"He doesn't know. He says there shouldn't have been anything up there. The radio shouldn't have been on at all. All he can think is that there was some electronic fault. But as to what caused the explosion…"

"But we got a clear distress call."

"I know. He says they had a bank of presets for signals and distress calls because it would largely be an inexperienced crew, one of them must have been triggered."

"So what are they going to do about it? I have risked two of my sons' lives for nothing."

"He's going to 'look into it'. I guess it's not their fault. Maybe a little carelessness, but, well, these things happen."

"Not when it's a matter of life and death they don't. I'll get them back to Earth, then we can think about what to do."

"Scott?" John asked the gently moaning form in front of him. Scott's eyes fluttered open, closed again, then opened more slowly and he looked at his brother.  
"Wow!" he croaked, struggling to focus on the blond mop of hair that half-filled his field of vision.

"You with us?" John asked again, relief and concern each struggling to find the upper hand on his face. Scott swallowed back a wave of nausea, thought for a second and smiled sheepishly.

"What was that?" he asked, his throat starting to get used to the idea of speaking again. John grinned,

"You were trying to spend a little time in the land of still waters. You've pretty much done for Virg by the looks of things Scott. Move your arms and things for me, lets check you over." Scott complied and John nodded as he gave him a couple of medicaments to straighten him out,

"Do you know what happened?" Scott screwed up his face, thinking. The last few minutes were a total blank, not surprisingly, before that though…

"I ran out of air," he admitted, bringing his hand up to rub his forehead where an almighty headache was threatening. "And I guess I panicked. Not sure which did for me."

"Well you sure as hell weren't looking to stay with us." Virgil said wryly from his position by the wall, where he was now checking Alan over. "Sorry to butt in on your recovery time Scott, but do you know what happened to Alan?"

"Not really. He was out cold when I got to him after the explosion; we both were initially. Then I got him awake and we went to take a look in the ship. I knew my air was pretty low, but I think my dials were broken, I'd almost bet they don't match the ones on the cans. I lost a lot through that gash on my arm. I said we should take a look so I could get back to Three with some info. Alan was ahead with the life-scanner, then I saw he wasn't moving himself, so I checked and he was out again. I tried to get him back to Three, then I found out about the air situation and that was my lot."

"Okay. Let's hope it's just a precaution his body's decided to take." John took a breath, stood up, helped Virgil get Alan out of his suit and fixed him up to the computers by the bed.

Virgil picked up his helmet, suddenly realising that it had been a while since they'd checked in.

"Virgil to base, we've got Scott back and awake"

"Well done Son. How is he? How's Alan?" Jeff said, purposefully keeping his voice calm as the waves of relief he felt at his son's recovery battled with the fury and concern at what might have been avoided.

"Scott seems okay. Alan…I don't know. John's checking him over. Dad…uh, did you tell Ned?" Scott shot him a look partly of irritation, partly of longing need. Virgil held his hand out flat at him, calming him.

"Er, not yet," Jeff replied, not wishing to give his sons any more to think about than they had to. Certainly not until they had ascertained Alan's condition. John called from the other side of the room.

"He's awake. I put him through the scan and his head's fine, just didn't want to deal with it I guess. Anyway, I gave him a shot of Brains' super-juice and he's back with us. I'm linking him up to the mobile unit so we can put him back on Thunderbird Three and get him home, I'm sure he's safe to fly. Besides, I don't want him moping around up here," he added, grinning.

"Good," said Jeff, ignoring John's last comment. "Once you're certain they'll both be okay, I want Thunderbird Three back here if Virgil's alright to pilot her."

"What about the scorpion ship?"

"Leave it. Nothing is more important than to get you all home right now."

"But the people? There might still be…I could go in myself, there's no reason why…"

"No Virgil. I am calling the operation off. That's an order."

"FAB. I'll call in when we leave. Out."

Virgil put the helmet down on a bench and went over to Alan who was lying staring morosely at the ceiling.

"Alright kid?" Alan grunted.

"You heard that, yeah?" Alan grunted again.

"Hey, you couldn't do anything. You were hit by an explosion."

"I was in there. I could have helped. I'm alright now. Why did I have to black out then?"

"Happens to the best of us. It knocked out Scott too, you know. You can't expect to be superhuman just because you're on the rescuing team."

"I know that. I just can't believe we're leaving them. What's Ned going to think of us?"

"Why do you care? I thought you hated him?" Virgil spoke quietly to avoid Scott overhearing.

"No. He's alright. I guess I overreacted a little at first. Does he know what's going on? Scott wouldn't think about it, but I guess he'll be worrying if he does know."

"I'm not sure. I know Dad wasn't going to let him in on any rescues, but he might have told him just where we are I guess."

Half an hour later, Alan and Scott had made a rather shaky way along the corridors and through the connecting tube into Thunderbird Three. Virgil called base as they pulled silently away from the docking ring and fired the yaw jets to turn them back towards Earth.

Jeff was still pacing the living room, his problems with Ned almost forgotten as he considered the ramifications of the nearly disastrous false alarm they had just encountered. Tin-Tin had gone to her room now that she knew the boys were on their way home, and Gordon was picking at the seat of the couch, trying to look occupied.

"Get off the couch," Jeff said quietly as the jets of Thunderbird Three roared over the roundhouse. Gordon got up as Jeff set the mechanism into action to retrieve the three astronauts from the rocket.

Two tired and battered looking heads emerged up through the floor, leaning uncharacteristically against the shoulders of a more alert, if no less drained-looking Virgil.

"Are you alright boys?" asked Jeff, concerned, trying not to show his additional worries until he was sure they could cope.

"I'm fine Father," said Virgil, "These two need a good sleep and Alan needs keeping an eye on, though he's been alright all the way back." Jeff nodded

"Right, Scott, Alan, off to bed. And I don't think bed would be amiss for you either, Virgil."

"Where's Ned?" asked Scott, surprising Alan and Virgil who hadn't heard him mention him once since the rescue attempt. Jeff looked slightly embarrassed, but quickly recovered himself,

"Scott, he's… Alan, go to bed. Virgil, take him."

"But…"

"No buts." Virgil saw the dangerous look in his Father's eye and pulled Alan up to standing and walked him briskly out of the room, throwing a worried look back at Scott."

"Scott. I wasn't going to tell you till you'd had a rest, but since he's in your room, I guess I'll have to."

"What?"

"Earlier on, at Tin-Tin's request, I let Mr Cook come and sit out of sight in here so that he could know what was going on with you. Tin-Tin said it wasn't fair to keep him in the dark. A few minutes afterwards, he left the room. Gordon was walking along the corridor and he heard him in your room, making a report. Broadcasting. Telling the world our secrets. I locked him in your room and blocked transmissions. I know you'll understand." The look of shock on Scott's face was paralysing,

"What do you mean, broadcasting?" He could feel cold fear running through him from that dark store of dread where it had been locked since his earlier conversation with his father. Gordon spoke,

"He was in there talking, Scott. I could hear him. He said..." Gordon's voice was shaking, "He said he was in the bedroom of the man who usually oversees rescues on the ground. He said what an amazing place this was, he said...he said..." He trailed off. The look of horror on Scott's face was unbearable as he crumbled back onto the couch. His whole frame seemed to fall in on itself and his mouth hung open. He raised his arms as is if to hide his face, but the pain of using his damaged arm shot through him like lightning and it fell slackly to his knee, making him wince in pain as it hit. His other arm was suspended in mid air, and as he tried to get his thoughts in order, what little resistance he had left gave way, and a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye and travelled, cold and wet, into the black hole of his gaping mouth.

His brother and father looked at him, not knowing what to do. Gordon sat down heavily on the edge of his father's desk, his anger at Ned a forgotten mote in his worry about his brother. Jeff looked around, hoping for help from anywhere; but he was on his own. He stepped towards his motionless son and crouched in front of him, his hands on Scott's knees, avoiding knocking the damaged arm. Like Gordon, his rage at Ned was currently eclipsed, albeit that he knew this was Ned's fault. This was not a Scott he knew. This Scott could not exist. It simply wasn't possible that anything in the world could do this to his oldest son. Nothing.

He looked into Scott's eyes, Scott stared at him, eyes blurry with tears, and the corners of his mouth pulled themselves down in a spasm of grief, before a horrible sob wrenched him back into the couch, echoing round the room like a death rattle.

"Scott?" his father ventured, unable to think of anything else to say. Scott took a deep, halting breath and closed his mouth. He licked his lips, and as his mouth pulled itself down again at the corners, he struggled to stop it, and shook his head.

"Scott, what do you want us to do?" Jeff tried again, feeling wholly inadequate. He wasn't trained for this. He didn't have a clue what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to stop his son hurting like this. He gripped Scott's knees tighter, trying to stop them shaking so uncontrollably. Scott shook his head again, closing his eyes, he couldn't think, there was nothing there in his head, no thoughts, no ideas, nothing but a great aching void of betrayal and loss. The pain in his arm was nothing. He didn't feel like this would ever change. This was eternity.

Jeff sat back on his heels, looking at his son with painfully dry eyes.

"Gordon, go and fetch Virgil, then go and unlock Scott's door and get Ned in here."

"Are you sure, Father?" Gordon asked, a note of panic in his voice,

"Yes, go on," Jeff said softly. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do or the worst, but he had to do something. He felt rage starting to rise in him again and his face contorted as he remembered what had done this. He pushed himself back up off Scott's knees and paced the room, his mind racing with a thousand things he could say to Ned. The door opened and Virgil and Gordon entered, looking pale, on each side of Ned who stood there between them, a mixture of sorrow and fury on his face. Jeff strode up to him, and while his two sons held Ned's arms, he positioned himself just inches from his face.

"DAMN YOU!" He shouted, his voice breaking. "DAMN YOU, NED COOK!" Ned tried to speak, but the weight of Jeff's passion hit him like a tidal wave and he stepped back out of range, feeling two sets of thumbs dig deeper into his arms. "I LET YOU STAY HERE IN GOOD FAITH. YOU PROMISED. YOU SWORE YOU WOULD STICK TO THE RULES. YOU, YOU COULDN'T HAVE DONE MORE DAMAGE IF YOU'D...YOU, YOU'VE PUT MILLIONS OF LIVES IN DANGER, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? BUT TO HELL WITH THAT, TO HELL WITH IT ALL, YOU, YOU...LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO MY SON..." Jeff was shaking uncontrollably, spit flying from him, his voice rasping and incoherent, his rage increasing as he realised that he had lost his temper, his nerve, his control, in a way he had never thought possible. He staggered back across the room, away from Ned and sank into a chair, breathing hard.

Ned stared back in silence. He may not have known Jeff Tracy very long, but he had heard enough and worked out enough from the way the family worked together, to know that he had just witnessed something nigh on impossible. The room was silent, except for five sets of heavy breathing. Then Ned shook himself. He turned to look at Virgil on his right. He looked into deep brown eyes and muttered,

"Let go. Please. Please." Virgil looked at him hard and slowly let go of his arm. He glanced over at Gordon and signalled him to let him go, then they stood in readiness to grab him again if need be.

Ned walked slowly over to Jeff and stood in front of him, then knelt down in front of him. Jeff was still breathing hard, but he was spent, too far gone to stop Ned now.

"Mr Tracy. What have I done?" He stopped. Virgil and Gordon looked at him in disbelief,

"What have you done?" Gordon asked incredulously at last, "You've broadcast our secrets to the world. You've broken our trust. And we liked you." He said this last bitterly, as though this was the greatest cost. Ned looked up in amazement,

"I what? No. No, I didn't. I wouldn't...couldn't...ask Scott, I couldn't, why do you think I...?" He stopped as realisation hit him, "Oh." He sagged, "You overheard me in Scott's room, yeah?" Gordon nodded. Ned shot a look at Scott, whose eyes had just shot open, then turned back to Jeff,

"Mr Tracy, I swear, I didn't broadcast a word. I was scared. I knew Scott was in space, I knew he was in danger, and I found that I couldn't cope. Well, when things are tough at a disaster area, the only way I can cope is by getting on with my job. It takes me out of it, distances me. Stops me feeling. So I went and pretended that I was broadcasting a report to take my mind of things, to make it alright. That's all. Surely you didn't think I could ever...but you must have known I wasn't broadcasting. I mean, Scott hasn't let on much about this place, but I gather your security is pretty tight here, and I reckon you've got the gadgets to spot a transmission going off, haven't you?...haven't you?" Gordon nodded, his shoulders sagging, he hadn't even though about that. Ned saw him and his mouth fell open, anger starting to take over from his calm explanation, "You mean you didn't even check to see if I had?...you just assumed? You just screamed me into the wall and you haven't even checked? You've done that to Scott, and you haven't looked to see if maybe I wasn't a filthy underhand little traitor?" His mouth hooked up in a sneer and Gordon ran to Jeff's desk, slamming his hand down on the switch,

"Base to Thunderbird Five, come in John..." John's portrait bleeped on and before he could get a word in, Gordon gabbled at him, "Check the read-outs for during the rescue of transmissions leaving this island. What is there? Quick John." John turned from the monitor and his hands flashed over the controls behind him. He turned back,

"Well, there's the stuff from Dad, nothing else."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. All scanners were operational right through and there's nothing but Dad's standard comms link. Why?"

"Never mind. Call you later. Out." Gordon pressed the switch again and John's confused face was wiped from the screen by his usual serene portrait. Gordon looked up at Ned, guiltily flicked another switch and spoke,

"Brains?" He heard the scientist start to speak and cut him off, "Was there any transmission or recording going on in this house just before you shut down external transmissions – apart from Dad?" There was a pause, then,

"N-No. Nothing unusual."

"Okay," said Gordon and closed the link without another word.

Silence returned to the room. Jeff's breath was slower now, a general air of embarrassment started to pervade the room. Ned got up, went over to the couch and sat down next to Scott, who was staring at his father blankly.

Jeff looked over at his son and Ned, He took a deep breath and blinked a couple of times. He suddenly looked very, very tired. His jaw worked soundlessly as he tried to figure out what to say, eventually he grasped the thin thread of energy he had left and spoke, he voice low and apologetic,

"Hell, Ned, I'm...I'm sorry. Truly, sorry. I guess, we were so caught up in the rescue, I, I was scared, scared for my sons' safety, and I guess I wasn't even really thinking about you. Gordon told me what he'd heard, and I just...I don't know. It's tough when your boys are out there and you don't know what's going on. We'd just lost contact with them. There was an explosion. Then when we got them back they were injured and I was still worried. Hell Ned, I'm not a young man. I get set in my ideas. I'd got it all set up that you were a good guy, but when it came down to it, it was easy to believe you'd fooled me. It never occurred to me to check. I made a mistake. Sorry Scott."

"Hey. Dad," Scott murmured softly from the couch. He went to put his good arm around Ned, but Ned got up, walking briskly back to where Jeff sat, ignoring the concerned looks on Gordon and Virgil's faces. He put out his hand,

"I'm sorry too. I shoulda known better than to do that, without telling you anyway. Of course you were preoccupied. I'm glad you were. You were doing more for Scott than I was. Shake and make up sir? I don't want to end this here." Jeff took the hand and shook it.

"You're a good man, Ned Cook," he said, "Don't ever let yourself be otherwise. Let's put this one down to experience and say it never happened."

"Right," said Ned.

"Thanks. And, uh, keep an eye on Scott for me will you? That was a pretty bad shock I just gave him, I don't think I can make it up, but you can have a go for me." He gave a half smile, "I'm going to bed, before I do anything worse." He got up slowly, as if it was a great effort, and left the room, straight backed and marching as ever. Some things could not be changed.

Ned went back to Scott,

"How's your arm? It looks pretty painful."

"I've had worse," Scott replied, "It's not broken, I've just torn the muscles badly I reckon, and it's a bit of a gash to go without stitches.

"Can you get it seen to here?" Scott nodded and Virgil stepped forward,

"We'll go down and get Brains to look at it. Gordon, will you go and check on Alan?" Gordon nodded, but didn't move. Scott pushed himself forwards on the couch, looking composed, but as he got shakily to his feet, his mouth twitched again. As Ned reached out to him, he put his arms around him. Burying his face in Ned's neck, Ned's arms wrapped tightly round him, he thought hard:

'Scott Tracy, what's happened to you? This ain't part of the deal. You may have been through a lot today, but it's nothing you can't deal with. Remember who you are. You are an officer, a trained man. You are the pilot of Thunderbird One. You go out there and you save people's lives. You are your father's number one, the one he calls on when he can't do it on his own. You are the role model for every one of your brothers and they respect you. Like hell is all that going to disappear just because you've taken an arrow in the heart and had it twisted around a bit. Pull yourself together. Who wants to see you in this kind of state? Nobody. You are an officer. You are a member of International Rescue. You are Scott Tracy.'

Scott pulled his face out of Ned's neck, put his good arm up behind his head, pulled him close and kissed him.

"Thanks Ned," he said with feeling. His tone was steady again, there was no sign of a tear in his eyes, which sparkled with red-rimmed pride as they looked at Ned. Although he was still a little unsteady on his feet, he put one arm round Ned's shoulder and gestured Virgil out of the way when he stepped in to support his other side,

"I'm fine, little bro. Go get some shut eye. See you in the morning. 'Night Gordo." He and Ned sped off down the corridor to see Brains, leaving Virgil and Gordon staring at each other, grins slowly spreading across their faces as Gordon hit the comms-link to the space station.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do review if your fingers are functioning, it is so greatly appreciated!


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